The dreamland of angels
by neverland300690
Summary: "I love you... I love everything about you that hurts. No one will ever love you as much as I do... Why isn't this enough?" - Closer
1. Epilogue

**Epilogue - Here, where all things come to the close**

'_Though here at journey's end I lie, in darkness buried deep,  
__beyond all towers strong and high,__beyond all mountains steep,  
__above all shadows rides the Sun,__and Stars for ever dwell:  
__I will not say the Day is done,__nor bid the Stars farewell.'  
J.R.R. Tolkien_

The lonesome figure that walked in the midst of the falling snow resembled a ghost gliding with difficulty through the clouds... maybe a soul that had lost its way to heaven. The wind was not powerful enough to interfere with the slow, almost lazy gait of the falling snow. It was not biting either. It flew just hard enough to pull the snowflakes with it a an amorous dance older than time itself. And the dancing snowflakes enjoyed their singular life from their birthing moment to their death on the ground, accumulated as sisters again.

But some of them fell on the woman's pale face, which was now so cold that most of the snowflakes did not even melt anymore. Some fell on the trail of blood that she had left behind with every step - and as if shamed by the vibrant red of it, the snowflakes hurried to cover it, to appease the scream of its violence against their white innocence.

The woman kept walking even though it seemed that putting one foot in front of the other was all she could do. Her feet weighted ten tones each and she was tired… _so tired_. Even her bones ached. All the suffering, the pain and the heartache were now gone. All she could feel was a strange numbness and a desire to sleep profoundly.

_If I could just lay down somewhere. Find myself again…somewhere…_

Her thoughts were whispers in her mind, careless because she hardly had strength left to even think. The fire in her was extinguished, the fight in her dead, her spirit gone. Too much pain and suffering had taken everything that made her who she had once been.

Now she was but an empty shell, truly a ghost of herself.

But even in her current condition, even with her body broken and in the icy grip of the snow and pain, she could spear a though for herself... and how much she despised what she had become. Hatred such as she had never known spiked for her own flesh and blood, for everything she was. If she could untangle herself from her own body, she would certainly kill herself and even enjoy it.

Those were the ways the war had changed her: the violence of her days had molded her mind and reason into shapes she had never thought possible. She had become what she despised, what she had never tolerated. She had become someone who had shed blood… a killer…

But she had done it for the people she loved, so she did not regret it.

She could not.

Every life she had taken was another breath that was spared for the people she loved. And she wept for the destruction of her soul, for shattering it over, because she knew that she would do it again. She was sorry for it all… but she would do it again.

No, it was something else that was plaguing her thoughts now: the fact that, despite everything she had been naturally inclined to believe in, despite her abhorrence for violence, she had learned to feel a little tinge of self-righteousness when she ended the life of the wicked. Even in the beginning, when the thought of taking a life weighted on her conscience like a ton of bricks threatening to crush her, the sole comfort for her sins had been that at least nobody else would suffer by the hands of those whose lives she took.

_All the blood that will never wash away… All the blood… on my hands…_

She had a stubborn streak in her now, a persistent belief that never left her alone, that clashed with her cowardly nature, with her distaste for confrontations; a relentless idea that made up for the bravery she lacked: those who cannot protect themselves deserve someone fighting for them. Nobody deserves to suffer at the hands of wicked men.

This idea was why she gladdened when she could take out one more root of evil in this world: because someone, somewhere would live a day longer because of that.

It was the kind of idea her mother would have come up with. It was the rule _he_ lived his life by.

_Oh, if I could just see you, just once. If I could tell you just one more time how _desperately_ I am in love with you. _

People like her mother and _him_ – they were born with that kind of thoughts in their heads, they nursed it, acted on it.

Not her though.

She had never felt that way, nor had she been able to understand the logic of people that did. People that claimed they were paws at the hands of a greater force, that they were doing a greater good. Self preservation had always been very important to her and that particular notion of life clashed violently with it. It was the kind of ideal she had _never_ had, the very thing that she despised actually.

_And yet I would die a thousand deaths if that would earn me your forgiveness…_

She had always thought that fighting for a better world, for the greater good - or whatever way you chose to put it - was such a self serving notion to have. She had always thought that arrogance and an inflated sense of self was what generally led people to think of themselves as protectors, as heroes.

She had never believed in it … until that belief was beaten into her by life and all the experiences she had had with pain, by all the times _she_ had been the one suffering at the hands of wicked men and had been pulled out of it by people that shared this idea she once ridiculed. _That_ was how she had learned to live by it as well, even though she was neither brave nor strong.

She had learned that sometimes just being willing to step up is enough. Because someone, somewhere, might be suffering. Because even one wand more, even at the mediocre hands of one such as herself, could make the difference. She had learned to fight for something, even though the blood and death was all around and nothing she ever did was enough to stop it, to change it. She had learned to accept the despair this brought and realize that it did not mean that it was all useless.

She had learned to kill, to hate.

She had learned to let herself go, leave everything behind and change at the hands of violence, become something she had never seen herself as, something that at times terrified her, haunted her nightmares.

_The frightening abyss that started staring back at me through my own eyes… The terrifying hiss of that tiny voice in my head: 'monster…'_

In the midst of all the darkness, she had learned to forgive – the others and herself.

_Forgive, or go insane…_

She had learned love …

_Love… Oh my love, my love, I am so sorry, _so_ sorry… but I do love you… I love you I love you I love you I lov…_

That same belief that she had learned to live by was also why she would have been glad to take her own life. But she had too much hatred for herself to simply end her own pain in such a selfish way. Deep inside her she knew that she deserved every ounce of this suffering. She had earned it, every drop of it.

_Monster…_

That was why she had fought her way out of that trap down in the valley. That was why she had refused to let herself bleed to death, why she had the strength to keep walking even though by experience, she knew that the wound on her chest and leg were deep enough to be fatal if not cured fast and well.

And even if they hadn't been, she knew by now that she was going to die anyway: the poison had done its job. She had been coughing blood for days, her insides were liquefying.

There was no escape… She was walking to her death, yes, but she would not make it easy for herself. She knew that she deserved no relief.

_Monster…_

None would be sorry. None would mourn. She was forgotten by the world and despised by those that remembered her. But she did not blame them for their loathing. She had been the undoing of every single person she loved... how could she blame them for spurning her? How, when she loathed her own skin more than they ever would?

The next step she took finally proved to be the one her body refused to take. Her knees failed her, her once powerful limbs now frail as glass.

She fell.

_Catch me… Where are you?_

Impossibly, again she fell.

On the snow, on her own condemnation.

The frosty bite of the cold on her cheeks scorched out of her even that little warmth that had been left. Never had she known hell to be so cold. Never had she felt a slower death. Now she understood why most of the Aurors she knew and the soldiers of the Order said that they preferred death on a battlefield, in a duel. It was usually guaranteed to be quick and if you were lucky, painless as well.

Not like this slow loss of consciousness that left you time to think about your own demise.

But she did none of that. In her last moment, as her blood seeped into the snow and burned it red, she didn't spare a single thought for herself.

_Because I found you. I locked you here, in my heart…in my heart…_

Instead she focused with all her might on the memories of a lifetimes ago, on the familiar faces that she had once called family and others she had loved with all the strength her soul could muster. She offered them her last moments of life and her last prayers, not thinking of redemption but bent on doing something right, just once more, for the last time.

_I am not afraid anymore… I'm not… I'd die for you now. You have made me brave…_

She knew she deserved none of their forgiveness, but she still asked for their ear as she let go of her last breath. It was not shame she felt now, not regret.

_Your love changed me, your smile saved me… _

She had not the strength for it anymore.

_My hearts whispers of you: I love, I love, I love…_

Only that deep love was left, that like a warm blanket encased her as she slowly started to fall into a sleep such as she had not known for a long time. A peaceful sleep that lulled every pain out of her. Childhood sleep.

And warmth of love.

It was a good way to die…


	2. Act 1 - Curtain call

_AN: The quote at the beggining does not belong to me, though i don't know what movie it's from._

**Act 1 – Curtain call**

"_No, I think about him every day. Last thought before I fall asleep and first thought when I wake up. I talk to myself all day about him, even when I'm talking to somebody else, even when I'm talking to you now, I'm talking to myself about him…"_

She looked away from the window and back down on the thick book on that was open in front of her. The sky was of an azure so clear that it sparkled like a mirror in the sun and the air was sweet with the scents of all the life blooming outside the cold and dreary castle walls, but with the final exams being only days away, Anya had no choice but to coop herself up in the godforsaken library and _study_!

She couldn't wait for sixth year to be over. In fact, the only thing that was keeping her on her books was the thought that these exams were one step closer to that finish line. And that thought was more firm in her mind that her abhorrence for the library… at least that was what she told herself. She hated the small quarters between infinite row of books, the smell of dust and old parchment that made her nose prickle, hated having to sit down for so long, it was nerve-racking and made for an incredibly depressing environment.

This entire magic thing had been unfair from the start and Anya had always resented her mother for it. Anya had known what she wanted to do with her life ever since she was 5 years old and it had nothing to do with pulling rabbits out of hats. _But_ her mother dearest was a witch and magical schooling had been non-negotiable, even though Anya couldn't care less about how you could transfigure a parrot into a water goblet.

What was up with that anyway? Didn't wizards see the cruelty of it, of taking life out of a living being by making it into a _thing_! They were so arrogant in their power, thinking themselves nearly god-like just because they had the ability to manipulate the energy and matter of the space around them…

Anya sighed. For the sake of self-honesty, she had to admit that magic was pretty amazing, but she knew that this didn't make wizards any better than the rest of the non-magical folk - on the contrary. Her people, including herself, were much easily prone to mistakes exactly because they had a slightly greater power.

Whatever!

She didn't want to care about that anyway. Her world was _outside _the magic world and all its wonders. And since sixth year would be over in a bit, she would be allowed to it, to her life. Her _real_ life, that is. Away from this castle and its weirdness, away from the people here, the ridiculous fights, the constant petty teases. Away from the ignorance and arrogance that made her want to scream. Away from the un-changeability of it all - this being the worst aspect by far.

Because even though in the surface this world appeared so full and anything but static, Anya knew better than to fall for that illusion. In her opinion, wizards were not in the habit of learning from mistakes, be that their own or someone else's - and as such, they seemed unable to truly change.

Anya sighed and tried to concentrate on Transfiguration again. This way of thinking did not belong to her. She had never cared about things like that and she sure as hell was not going to start now.

Three more weeks for the end of this year. One more year after this one and she'd be free. Then she would give the magical world the hairy bird, walk away and _never_ look back.

_A few weeks later_  
_Summer of 1977 (or somewhat around that)_

__"Bye Anya!"

"See you on Thursday Andy."

"Hey, you want a ride?" The blond boy looked at her a little hopefully, but she shook her head and smiled.

"It's ok, I have to stop by the library and get some books for my mom. Thanks though."

Anya turned around and readjusted her sports bag when a familiar a waterfall of blonde hair came into her view, blurring her vision. But sight didn't matter, Anya knew who it was. She sighed, resigning to her fate, but smiling a little nonetheless.

Cleo had already started talking.

"…believe we always get off at the same time huh. You always stay late these days though, we've hardly seen you."

Anya hoped nobody else would be joining them. She could handle Cleo alone, but not the entire group, not right now. Her friends would definitely start drilling her about her behavior of the late and she didn't want to give explanations, because she herself didn't know the cause of her distress, nor did she like to dwell on it.

In the last few weeks Anya had been unsatisfied with everything in her life, it was like being on constant PMS! She hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it. Sometimes her nerves would just snap for no reason. Which made her very bad company.

"Hey Cleo. How were classes?"

The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. "Same old, same old. _You_ on the other hand are always so much more interesting to talk about."

Anya snorted on the inside.

"Rumor has it you're performing with RBC this season. That's like, 10 different kinds of _bloody cool_!"

Cleo winked at her and Anya smiled, this time more easily and genuinely. Because this was Cleo for you: with her you could be safe in knowing that what you see is really what you get, mostly because Cleo didn't really care about ballet. She took some classes during summer, but she was into contemporary dancing and the fact was that she was perfect for it with all that energy and good athletic skills.

But her feet were too flat to do any serious ballet work. She could barely hold herself up on pointe and it she tried too hard she could end up hurting herself.

On the other hand, even thought in a different branch of the Academy, Anya wasn't surprised that Cleo knew about her supposed professional career. News like that tended to travel fast.

Every ballerina in the country wanted to snag a spot in Royal Ballet Company. To invite in a student that wasn't even out of the Academy yet, and who only actively studied within the Academy itself only during the summer courses… well, that was unheard of. So naturally, when news had gotten out that RBC had offered to take Anastasia Rain in their troupe it had been a bombshell.

Had it been anyone but Anastasia Rain, nobody would have believed it. But it _was_ Anya, which meant there had been stares and whispers, but not a much surprise and not even a hint of disbelief.

"That's just a rumor. And it's not even accurate." Anya said with a smile, looking at Cleo's sapphire eyes as she rolled them theatrically.

Cleo had beautiful eyes. Proportionate with her face, shaped to perfection. There was no denying the hint of envy that sparked in Anya as she noticed this every time she looked at the blonde.

"Don't give me that! Alicia told me you practically signed."

"No honestly, I haven't signed anything. We talked, but I told the representatives that I want to finish here at Academy first."

Cleo stared. "You're nuts, you know that! I'd kill for your luck… and your legs." she laughed and Anya had to smile at her.

She didn't say that she'd been promised so much more than just a spot in the _corps de ballet_. The artistic director of the company wanted her as a soloist, but Anya really didn't want _that_ part to get out. Being a seventeen year old and one of the main dancers of the biggest dance companies in the world… Well, Anya wasn't sure she wanted that kind of attention. She could hardly believe it herself. It was a dream come true! But only halfway, as always. Because she was Anastasia Rain and things tended to get complicated if you were a witch who wanted to be a ballerina with a paranoid, control-freak mother.

"Have you ever practiced with them? With the rest of the troupe, I mean. What are they like? Are the ballerinas catty to you? Is Jacqueline Florell as big a bitch as they say she is?" Anya had to smile. There was no stopping Cleo when she got on a roll.

"I have been practicing with some of the troupe every Saturday ever since the beginning of the summer, and yes, Florell is everything they say she is."

Cleo snorted out a laugh. Anya was about to tell her about the little run-in she'd had with the RBC's prima ballerina a few nights ago, but something interrupted her.

To their right, one hell of a motorbike had just stopped in his tracks. The rider kept accelerating while holding down with the breaks, the friction of the back wheel against the asphalt raising a small cloud of smoke.

He was staring at Cleo – who couldn't help checking him out a little. The lean muscles of his arms and forearms showed under his faded blue T shirt – skin so tan that he looked like bathed in golden brown - and they flexed as he changed gears.

Cleo forgot what she had been talking about with Anya and just couldn't help smiling his way. And even though his face was practically all covered by his helmet, Cleo could tell by his gunmetal-grey eyes that he was smiling back.

"Look at _that_…" She whispered, and it was all Anya could do not to roll her eyes.

It wasn't like that bloke wouldn't know that Cleo was talking about him! The girls kept walking and biker-boy followed Cleo's every step with his eyes. And then the bike made a jump forward and started following them, despite the traffic-light still being red for him.

_Oh, just perfect… _Anya thought as she picked up her step.

Cleo was not even bothering though.

"Hello." The boy said, his voice muffled because of the protective helmet he was wearing and hadn't bothered taking off. Cleo had the good sense of not replying but she was still smiling.

Anya didn't even turn to look at him, pointedly ignoring him. By practice, she knew that he wasn't talking to her anyway. When you walked with Cleo, you were invisible… unless you were Alicia.

"Fancy a lift?" The guy added, still following them at minimum speed, sounding amused. At that low speed, Anya thought, it was a wonder he wasn't losing equilibrium.

"No thanks. I live nearby." Cleo answered, too much lightness in her tone.

_So _this_ is how girly girls flirt with weird guys in the street and then get butchered in dark allies_, Anya mentally commented in her head.

"Really? Where's that?" He asked, sounding amused. Cleo's eyes flashed; she was enjoying the attention, but not even she was going to give her address to a stranger. She chuckled in a way that Anya thought was supposed to be coy.

"That's really none of your business." Cleo said, even thought it sounded more like an invitation to insist than to leave it alone.

"Ah, that's too bad. We could have fun, go for a ride wherever you want, I'd buy you dinner and a movie and then I'll take you back home. I'll be the perfect gentlemen, I swear."

He sounded as if he were almost laughing, not at all like most freak-shows that talked to Anya sometimes, who poked their tongues out and flapped it around like serpents. The mere thought of it made her skin crawl.

_I suppose I'm a freak magnet_, she thought with a mental shrug.

"Thanks, but I really do need to get home. My mum is waiting for me…" Cleo replied and the regret in her voice was unbelievable, Anya noticed, outraged. Then, to Anya's even greater surprise, the blonde added:

"You know, you could always pick me up tomorrow." she sounded hopeful, inviting. Anya almost choked on her spit. Going from the one-second pause of the guy, Cleo had surprised him too.

"Just name when and where love. No wait, let me guess, you're a ballerina right?"

Cleo was amazed.

Anya less so.

"Yeah! How did you know?"

This time Anya could help a small snort, which she artfully turned into a cough. Cleo didn't even notice, thank god.

'_Oh, probably the fact that you're wearing an elaborate set of pink cut-off sweatpants and a matching tank top.' _she thought a bit more derisively than Cleo deserved_ '…and you have a huge _'Danza' _bag over your shoulders - You know, the little things…'_

Anya clapped a metaphorical hand over her metaphorical mouth, stopping the blabber in her head. When had she gotten this bitchy?!

"Everything is in the details." The bloke said. He earned a few points in Anya's book though, because he was rather polite about Cleo's obvious self-induced dumbness by not calling her on it. Anya knew for a fact that Cleo had dated much worse.

"So, tomorrow, this time, outside the Ballet Academy down the street." It wasn't a question but somehow it didn't sound a demand either.

"Sure."

"See you then."

"Hey, wait!" Cleo called, stopping her walking, clearly afraid he would speed off, which was exactly what he had been about to do, going by the way he had accelerated and then abruptly stopped.

Anya had to stop walking too, elaborately still _not_ looking at either of them, in fact staying a few feet away from Cleo and her new potential-love-interest altogether.

"What?"

His tone was neutral, if not a little amused. Another good point in Anya's book, despite her irritation with the entire situation. At least he didn't sound pissed. Because had he been, Anya would have started lecturing her friend about the dangers of sociopaths that dwell the streets of London on bikes.

"Don't I at least get to see your face?" Cleo asked, her tone flirtatious. Anya didn't know why, but she just had to look.

And just as she'd thought, Cleo wasn't flirting _just_ with her tone. She was throwing the whole package at him, so much that Anya wondered how the bloke was still holding his balance on his bike: Cleo's lids were heavy over her amazing crystalline eyes, looking at him through her thick long lashes, the hand on her brilliantly blonde hair, pouting her lips prettily and jutting out her hip, so much that Anya had to wonder if she had dislocated the thing. The overall effect was straight out of a fashion magazine, of the kind that turned heads.

It was almost painful to look at.

"I'll surprise you tomorrow." The guy said, a smile blatant in his tone and…

Anya met his eyes … and recognition struck like a hammer on her heart, which stuttered painfully within her chest the same way it always did when she felt a stab of fear.

His eyes…

_Oh my…_

Anya couldn't believe what she was looking at. She stared. Blinked a couple of times and stared again.

_It's impossible!_

He put the bike in gear and sped off so fast that it seemed something that launched him off, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Anya followed his high-speed performance with horror.

That had been… that had _really_ been…

Shocked speechless, Anya realized that she hadn't recognized him at all. She should have known his voice, but she hadn't - probably because she had been so busy blocking out the conversation. But one glance at him and she had known - his eyes couldn't be mistaken for another's.

Mostly because she was always so afraid of catching their gaze. Afraid of _him_.

How was it possible that of all the streets in London, of all the possible combinations of alleys and deviations, he would pass through the one _Anya_ was walking on?

Anya felt her heart pounding against her breastbone, as if it wanted to punch out. She still couldn't believe this. A perfectly ordinary day had been shaken to its very core by that one simple glance… and now Anya was half dazed, still trying to recover a normal breathing patter. She couldn't explain this reaction; all she knew was that it was not normal.

"Oh. My. _God_." Cleo almost squealed, snapping Anya out of her surprise and horror.

"You better not get on that bike!" She said alarmed turning to her friend.

Cleo frowned a little, but still smiling a little too widely. "Why not?"

"Didn't you see the way he drives? What if you have an accident? He could get you killed! Or worse, _injured_!" Anya dearly hoped her friend didn't recognize the slight hysteria in her tone. But in the face of her total seriousness Cleo just shrugged.

"I'll tell him to be careful."

As if that solved anything!

"But you don't even know the guy! What if he's a maniac or something! What if he…"

"Oh, I know him. I mean, I know _about_ him - Alicia is the one that knows him, I saw her talking to him a few days ago. I remember the bike - and his face."

So that about wanting to see him had been just one of Cleo's little games. Cleo had known who it was behind that helmet. Probably she'd known before Anya did, and how moronic was that! Anya had gone to the same school with the bloke for 6 years, spent almost 3 of those years avoiding the places he and his friends roamed, out of self-preservation instinct. In a twisted way, she was attuned to him by now, the way the prey is always so in sync with its hunter, able feel danger from miles away…

Anya's inner alarm must be broken, because she had not felt a thing!

"God, he is _so hot_. I've dated better-looking guys, but he has this air about him that is just so… so… so _dangerous_." Cleo said passionately and then sighed, a slightly dreamy look on her face.

Anya felt her eyebrows reach for her hairline. "Dangerous? _That's_ the bases of his appeal?"

Cleo giggled, looking at Anya as if the answer was beyond obvious. "_Yeah_! He has this air that makes me think about adventures and naughty things!"

In the face of Anya's open disbelief, Cleo laughed and rolled her eyes amiably. "Every girl likes a bad boy, Anya." She stated as if it was a universally known truth that Anya had yet to acknowledge.

When Anya cynicism added to the disbelief previously layered in her expression, Cleo shrugged. "Well, maybe not you…" She amended.

Anya huffed, rolling her eyes and deciding to drop the argument. Let the girl do what she wants, she thought… Let _him_ do what he wants. Or _who_ he wants, as it were the case. It was none of her business and she was being a bitch, raining all over her friend's parade like that.

ButCleo wouldn't stop talking and Anya was dearly wishing she was somewhere else… _Anywhere_!

"… I couldn't believe that cheeky bastard! Alicia told me his name to, but I can't remember now." She said, now ecstatic and almost clinging to Anya's arm. "I can't _believe_ he actually asked me out. And just like that… It just feels so unreal. Can you believe it?"

_Oh, trust me, I can… I just wish I didn't have to._

God, how she wished she'd stayed behind a little longer in class. Why had she had to see this? Was this punishment? Couldn't fate just leave her alone?

The girls parted ways after a few hundred feet. Cleo was debating what to wear when they said goodbye, to Anya's irritation – which Cleo failed to notice.

Anya had barely said a word the entire time, eating herself up on the inside. She had been almost happy when she got out of the academy, but now all the weight of her frustration was on her in the form of some unknown anger that had slithered his way in her chest, coiling there like a snake.

Anya rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her mood had the ability to change so drastically, switching from highs to lows in a heartbeat. She had always know that she was a moody girl, but with some control and restrain, she had always been able to keep some kind of equilibrium. Not anymore though…

With a sigh, she put on the headphones of her portable cassette player and closed her brain to everything else. The music filtered in her ears and Anya danced to it in her head, just like she did when Transfiguration got particularly boring. Thank god she still depended on dancing and it never stopped releasing her emotions for her. Anya was sure that with the stress levels she had been provoking herself lately, she would have gone loopy by now had she not had a point of release – to her that had always been ballet: the physical expression of herself. Through the creation of movement she could make her every emotion into something meaningful, something beautiful… and let go of everything else.

Slowly, Anya found out she could even let go of thoughts of _him_ this way. If she tried hard enough…

_Wherever you are, you can practice your steps. Dance in your mind, listen to the count in your head_. - That's what Sasha always said.

_One two three - lift, one two three, one two three, plie, arabesque on four. Take your standout from the hip! From the hip dear - use the muscles in your inner thighs. _

_And again from the top!_

It was always Sasha's voice in her head, telling her what to do, urging her on. And Anya followed it. Even now that she was walking home, Tchaikovsky playing in her headphones, she was dancing with the music, dancing her steps.

_Support your arms from beneath, not above. Three thousand people are not going to watch you raise your arms if you don't do it beautifully - they want to see the movement, not the work behind it._

Anya smiled, thinking fondly of her teacher and mentor and her fierce stares… And just like that, in that one moment of distraction, thoughts of the invasive bastard found his way into her head yet again from the corner they'd been lurking. He just shoved in, without a bang or a whisper, without even asking for permission. There was no helping it… again he'd found a way to slither inside her thoughts despite her will.

Anya felt the irritation with herself grow to unhealthy proportions. She had no idea why the thought of him was so persistent, so insatiable. Maybe it was because he intimidated her so much. He was among the people that Anya went out of her way to avoid – ironically for the very same reason that Cleo found him so attractive: there was something very unstable about him, something dark and potentially volatile that made him dangerous and to her that danger was not attractive – it was alienating on a very instinctual level. The way he lived scared her, the fact that he never cared about anyone but himself scared her.

But he hadn't been always like that.

When she'd seen him for the first time on the Platform 9 ¾, he'd been different. And once she noticed him, it was easy to keep looking.

Back then, he had been the only one in the middle of that mess that had looked as miserable as Anya had felt. He had been so strange, so very quiet and reserved. He stood out in an outlandish way, as if even in the middle of the peanut-crushing crowd, he was completely alone; cut off from everyone else in ways that weren't about space as much as they were about time.

His eyes had stricken her with their seriousness. He had the most amazing eyes, despite their sobriety: so determined and unafraid. And so intelligent and sharply attentive that they had unsettled Anya a bit. But it had been the sadness in him that she had recognized.

So easily she had related to him back then, without even knowing him.

But that changed as they grew up, because he had grown up into a different person… into something ugly. Someone that scared her, that she keep away from because she was one of those people he liked to hex around for fun, just because he could.

But then, all had stopped. (That was when the thought of him had started invading her head every now and then.)

Something had snapped at Hogwarts, changed as if someone had arranged it. It had happened somewhere between last Christmas and the end of the year: that constant battle inside the castle had slowly faded into the usual random accidents, people didn't go looking for trouble anymore, cruel pranks were not dealt out just for the fun of it.

And Anya had noticed, before she noticed much else, that _he_ had changed. Only recently she had learned why… or at least she _thought_ she knew why. Anya could not be sure of course, after all she didn't even know him, not really. She'd never actually talked to him, not once, probably because she was 10 different kinds of coward.

Speaking to him would require something Anya didn't possess: courage. The courage to risk being refused, ignored or ridiculed by him at the end of the conversation. She had heard him talk to people multiple times and if it weren't for his shrewd eyes and the barely-there smirk, his way of speaking could be perceived as almost naïve, because he always answered with the truth, _always_, so much that sometimes Anya thought there was nothing he cared about enough to want to hide. But Anya knew that his kind of honesty did not stem from some moral soul – it was too brutal, too aggressive to be that way - but rather from an incredibly confident one. He was so assured of himself that nothing minimally grazed him; so arrogant that in his mind, nobody could ever be on his level enough to offend him.

Anastasia shook her head as if that would dispel the thoughts inside it. God, how she _hated_ him (and herself more) for disturbing her so much. She had things to do, _important_ things, things that did not involve boys of any kind except those in tights!

Anya took a deep breath and refocused.

_One two three - flutter, flutter on the surface girls. You need to barely touch the floor! Gracefully – remember, you are swans!_

Yeah, swans are beautiful, sure… Too bad nobody mentions that they are the meanest animal on the planet...


	3. Act 2 - Thoughts

**Act 2 – The thoughts that should not be in your head**

_The dance world is too small in lots of ways – it's too intense, it rattles around itself.  
-Siobhan Davies-_

Anya was making herself dinner. It was 8 pm, her mother would be home any minute. She would have loved to eat what was on her plate while watching a documentary on the TV and then go to bed. Instead she had to deal with Alicia Mackenzie draped all over her couch, dressed up and ready to hit the clubs.

"Anya, you never go out anymore. You're turning into a hermit!" Alicia's voice reached her again and Anya closed her eyes, trying to keep her temper under wraps.

"I'm tired Ali, leave it alone."

As far as Anya knew, she and Alicia were the only witches in Ballet Academy. Both of them went to Hogwarts – well, Alicia not anymore because she had just graduated that year, but still, they shared both the magic and the ballet... which had been the coincidence that had brought them together.

They had met at the same beginners class when Anya was eight and Alicia nine, and had not hit it off at all. Anya had been the kid that barely said a word all day, Alicia the loud and garish one everyone was friends with. Despite the fact that both girls were polite and occasionally helpful to each other if occasion demanded it, they barely spoke unless strictly unavoidable, because they kept out of each other's way.

But when a twelve year old Alicia sat on the Gryffindor table and watched that in the middle of the row of incoming first years there was someone she knew from before, she had decided that knowing Anya from ballet classes and then finding out they were both witches, could not be coincidence; fate was trying to tell them that they were mean to be friends… and surprisingly, their friendship worked despite their so very different temperaments, mostly because they both worked on it. Mind over matter worked after all…

Still, all relationships had their straining points - like right now, for instance.

"Come on Anya, I want to go out! I wanna dance, flirt, get drunk, possibly get high and I want _you_ to be there to hold back my hair."

"My favourite place in the world." Anya said flatly as she checked on the boiling stew.

But even as Anya tried to ignore her friend 's nagging she knew it was a useless tactic. Alicia was the most irritatingly tenacious girl Anya had ever met, she would _never_ give up.

"Come on, _please_. It's been ages since we're properly hanged out together." Alicia pleaded softly and Anya knew she was being manipulated into feeling guilty. Anya glared back at her friend's puppy eyes. She knew Alicia was doing it on purpose.

"Totally below the belt Ali. You're not allowed to pull the guilt card on me, I've just come home from eight hours of standing on my _toes_."

Alicia's puppy eyes and pleading look disappeared, not even a single trace of the vulnerable expression remaining – instead there was an eye-roll that turned into a glare. Jesus, that girl's capacity for deception was scary.

"Bitch please, you're just too lazy to get your ass out the door and have some proper fun."

Anya opened her mouth, ready to snap big time and shut her annoyingly outgoing friend up… but was greeted with a package that almost slammed on her face.

"_Ali_!"

"Happy birthday, bitch." Alicia deadpanned.

Anya held the red package awkwardly. She had been a second away from yelling her head out, when Alicia was trying to drag her ass out so they could celebrate _her_ birthday. Well, what Alicia _thought _was Anya's birthday anyway.

"Don't tell me you're so spaced that you'd forgotten?" Alicia asked incredulously.

Anya was tempted say that she hadn't forgotten anything. That June 26th was not necessarily her birthday just because it said so in her birth certificate and ID card - seeing that they were both perfectly _forged_. But Alicia didn't know about all that and she wasn't supposed to. That was the entire point of _hiding, _was it not?

Anya bit her tongue and forced a smile.

"Thanks…" she said hesitantly. Now she was 'officially' off age.

She'd have to ask her mother whether she was allowed to do magic or not. Her ID and birth certificate were entirely legal as far as the Ministry was concerned, but it would be months before Anya was _really_ off age. How did the trace work in these cases?

"I know, I know, I'm too awesome for words." Alicia said as she turned to have a better view of her ass. Anya rolled her eyes. Now was not the time to wallow anyway.

Just as she was about to properly thank her friend, the front door opened, and with the speed of a feline predator, Alicia was out there, giving Katherine Rain a hug and a generous hello. Anya heard her mother's voice, and right from the tilt of her tone she knew that her mother was very tired.

"Hey there Alicia! You look wonderful! Hey baby," She then added as she spotted Anya on the couch. Anya smiled from the sofa and was rewarded with a wink.

"Thank you miss Rain. I'm going out and as per usual you daughter is being difficult about coming along, even on her birthday, go figure."

Katherine let her hair loose and massaged her scalp, looking Anya and Alicia over in turns. "Hm, though it _is_ a special occasion, don't you girls have to go to the Academy tomorrow?"

"Yes, we do." Anya said firmly.

"Well, yeah, but you know how perfect Anya is about her practicing. She's been at it all afternoon. And we won't stay late, I promise." Alicia looked at Anya's mother hopefully.

But Katherine didn't seem so convinced, mostly because Anya didn't seem like she was too fond of the outing herself – and Katherine knew why. Whenever company was around, pretences had to be kept… even though Anya _loathed_ celebrating her fake birthday, and Katherine had to admit that she felt the same way, but was not quite as vehement as her daughter about it.

"And besides, Anya's been so uptight lately, she needs a break!"

"I have not!" Anya jumped, fronted a little by the liberties Alicia was taking.

Anya was kinda getting peeved at Ali's perseverance for always having her way no matter what.

"You know, I'm gonna have to agree with Alicia on this one, hun." Her mother turned her dark doe-like eyes towards Anya, studying her daughter carefully and Anya felt defenceless. She took a deep breath and balanced her tone as if she was balancing herself on a neat first position.

"I've had to practice for my recital for next month and … and I don't need to explain myself anyway, Im fine!"Anya tried not to sound too guilty, or too defensive.

"I understand, but you have been taking this with too much pressure." Katherine tried.

"I have been taking it with _exactly_ as much pressure as it needs to be taken. Why should I justify myself over that?" Anya snapped and she saw her mother raise an inquisitive eyebrow, usually a sign of interest or irritation, depending on circumstances.

This time it was bound to be irritation and Anya felt instantly at fault. She hated snapping like that, especially at her mother, and with other people present too.

Anya tried to put a choppy apology together, without really saying the words.

"Alright, _fine_. There might be a certain amount of stress accumulation going on here, _but_ that does not mean I am ready to take it easier. This is important to me." Anya stated, looking at her mother, who sighed and nodded, but didn't say anything else.

Alicia rolled her eyes. Anya felt like hitting her friend over the head with the nearest pillow.

"Let's go get ready." Anya finally grumbled.

She felt her irritation grow at the sound of Alicia's gleeful '_yes_!', but she pushed that aside. It wasn't Alicia's fault that her perseverance could be nerve-racking, because Anya didn't remind her as often as she should.

On her way to her room she paused and have her mother a small kiss on the cheek. Katherine was a bit rigid, but melted out of it right away, her hand briefly caressing Anya's hair in acceptance.

"Wait, open my gift first." Alicia said as she strode into Anya's room and closed the door behind herself. Anya grabbed the package and opened it, to find a black dress like a thin tube of elastic cotton, which from the size of it, was made to fit a Barbie doll and not a real person.

Alicia smirked mischievously.

"You wear that with those heels we bought last week, and it's not gonna matter that you're almost as flat as a board."

Anya gave Ali a nasty look. "Bite me, Mackenzie!"

Even though she knew Alicia was just messing around with her, it still annoyed her. Anya was sensitive about her breasts – or, to better say, the lack of them… But that, along with the horrid feet, was generally one of the usual consequences of being a ballerina, so there was no avoiding it.

"I can't wear that anyway. The only reason I'm coming to this thing is to set things straight with Bobby." Anya said as she rummaged in her closet.

"All the more reason to look smouldering hot."

Anya frowned at her friend. "Really? Won't I look as if I'm trying to play hard-to-get?" but all Alicia did was roll her eyes and smirk.

"You don't need to _play_ hard-to-get baby." Alicia said offhandedly, making Anya flip her the bird.

The dress really did fit her well. Like a second skin, ending two scandalous inches under her ass, with one strap that went around her neck, keeping the dress from falling too low on the front. Sexy, provocative, but simple enough not to be slutty. There was no way that she was wearing this with heels though. A pair of black converse would do just fine.

Anya smiled and started going through her makeup kit.

"So, why do you wanna lose Bobby? Was your movie-date that bad?"

"Are you kidding me? It was a disaster!"

"Did he try anything funny?" Alicia's eyes narrowed with suspicion and curiosity and Anya knew she had her friend's full attention.

"We went to the theatre and he lets me pick the movie, and go for a science-fiction…"

Alicia huffed. "Really romantic Juliet."

"Whatever. We talk - that is, he asks questions and I answer while he pretends to care…"

"Your cynicism breaks my heart." Alicia said flatly, which didn't disrupt Anya's rhythm at all.

They were both so used to their constantly talking over each other that they do it throughout the whole conversation and still understand everything the other was saying.

"…we do some kissing, tongue and everything, which was nice. Getting to it felt kinda forced though."

Alicia frowned. "Forced? What do you mean 'forced'?"

Anya shrugged, thinking about what she had felt that day. "I don't know… It just felt like he was doing and saying stuff just because he thought those were the things I would want him to do and say. Like he was getting it out of a rulebook or something. It just didn't feel natural."

There were a few moments of silence, during which Alicia's eyebrows had almost reached her hairline."Your brain works in mysterious ways Anya."

"Yeah, I know." Anya admitted and it was more serious a response than Alicia's comment deserved, but Ali didn't notice the change in her tone. "Sometimes I think should take a mild tranquilizer before I have a date, that way I won't be thinking too much and actually enjoy myself."

That made Alicia laugh. "Yeah right. Cause the only way you can enjoy yourself is if you put your brain out of the equation?"

Anya gave her friend a _'duh' _look and Alicia couldn't help a burst of laughter. "I guess you're not too wrong about that. The fun is definitely better if you don't over-think things."

"My point exactly. Ok so, like I said, kissing Bobby was nice. So nice that I even let him grope my ass once. I suppose he got his hopes up…"

"Lucky bastard."

Anya smirked as she fluffed her hair a little with her fingers and combed her bangs in front of her eyes. They were so long that they almost covered her eyes completely, but that was the reason she kept them that way: to cover her eyes at least partially, to soften the toad-look they inspired.

"So, we're inside, the lights go out and the movie starts. After some time, he takes my hand. I let him, no big deal. I have to say it got uncomfortable at one point, cause his hand started to get sweaty…"

"Nobody like you can get lost in the meaningless details." Alicia droned.

Anya found she was a little affronted by her friend's tone.

"Well it _was _uncomfortable! What do you want me to say?"she protested

"Couldn't you just enjoy the sweetness of the act?" Alicia bit back, not backing down.

"I didn't deny that it was sweet and I didn't say I pulled away. I was merely pointing out the obvious."

"So you're flushing the guy because his palms sweat?"

Anya glared daggers.

"_No_!" She said firmly. "Come on Alicia, I'm a ballerina - sweaty blokes don't scare me. It was _after_ that that he really put his foot in it."

"Anya really, the suspense is killing me." Alicia said flatly, making Anya roll her eye.

"After a little more cuddling he starts pulling my hand to him and then I get curious, like, what the hell is he doing? Then I notice just exactly _where_ he is pulling my hand to." Anya said suggestively and saw Alicia's mouth open in shock, eyes lighting up with sudden excitement as she suddenly sat up on the bed.

"Oh, that kinky son of a bitch! What did you do?"

Anya snorted, as if the answer was obvious. "I dumped my drink on his lap and got the hell _outa_ there."

Alicia lively laugh bounced off the walls."Aww, that's too bad, he has a nice ass."

Anya snorted. "Yeah, too bad it's on his shoulders."

Alicia's full laugh reached Anya's ears even though her friend was in the corridor putting on her shoes. Anya sat on her bed as she laced up her black sneakers; she picked out a black summer-jacket with short sleeves and was ready to follow her friend out the front door.

"Bye mum, see you later." Anya called out distractedly.

Her mother's voice was a lot closer than she expected though. "Have fun love… Oh, interesting dress."

Anya stopped at her mother's tone, and looked at Katherine with a smile. "Thank you, it was a gift."

"I do wish you could put those horrible bangs out of your eyes just for once, let your pretty face breathe."

Anya sighed. She _knew _that her mother meant it in the best way but the way she insisted that Anya looked better with her hair out of her face irritated her like nothings else sometimes. Katherine always thought that her daughter looked beautiful even in the most extreme situations, which warmed Anya's heart, but sometimes, just _sometimes_… it felt like telling a toad in a lace dress that it looked like a princess. Her eyes completely ruined any portion of normality that her face might have. They were big and round and bulged, too disturbingly toad-like to allow any kind of real prettiness – which was why the bangs were always firmly in place.

"I'll try that some other time ok." Anya said, trying to reign her temper.

"Do you have your wand with you?" Her mother's face was dead serious and Anya tried not to roll her eyes. Always the same questions.

She briefly wondered what it would be like having a normal parent that told you not to stay out too late and fought with you over what you were wearing… but that consideration passed fast, because occasionally her mother did those things, and it was annoying as hell.

"As always, of course." Anya answered trying to keep her tone neutral. The best way to piss off her mom was to take her worries lightly.

"I don't see any available place in that dress for you to hide it dear." And now Katherine was teasing, the little twitch at the side of her mouth giving her thoughts away instantly.

"Very _funny_ mother." Anya said in a clipped tone and her mother's smirk got wider.

Anya couldn't help but smile a little, because her mother was right, it _had_ been tricky to find a place to hide her wand, but as always, the Undetectable Expanding Charm came to her rescue. She'd hidden her wand inside one of the charms hanging from her bracelet.

"I'll be back by one o'clock, tops. I have your portkey right here…" and Anya waved the wrist where she was wearing the charm bracelet her mother had told her to always keep on. "I know the rules: No drinking, no drugs, no kissing, no tattoos, no piercings, *no* ritual animal slaughters of any kind…"

Katherine laughed heartedly, but there was a glint in her eyes when she looked at Anya that wasn't entirely about humour.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that, I trust you." Katherine said calmly, meaning every word.

Anya felt her insides shift and warm up, her face softening, the smile on her lips coming without her even noticing. She took a couple of steps forward to give her mother a kiss on the cheek and felt Katherine's hands come up to cup her face, and then the soft lips that Anya knew instinctively, as they laid a feathery touch on her temple.

"Have fun love."

"'Night mum."

Katherine winked playfully at her daughter as Anya closed the door behind herself. Out in the street, Alicia was already waiting in a cab.

oOoOo

Anya was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window and looking at London's winking lights. They seemed to move in waves, like a sea of stars. She felt lightheaded as she watched, as if she was sitting six inches behind herself. That was just the exact feeling that had been stirring her up for months now: she was in one place, but felt she needed to be in another. Nothing was enough to satisfy her inexplicable appetite for that ever elusive '_something else'_.

"Anya, you there? Hellooo, earth to Anya!"

Apparently, her company noticed the change in her.

_Perceptive of him._

"Come on, I'm really sorry that I pushed it ok. It was completely my fault and I would love to make it up to you. Give me another chance."

Anya turned to look at him. Bobby seemed sincerely sorry for messing it up, and yet she didn't feel anything but indifference. Anya couldn't find it within herself to care about Bobby's symmetrically handsome face or his perfectly combed back blonde hair, not even enough to smile and accept the apology gracefully. Truth was that she was itching away from his touch, that she felt her skin crawl wherever he put his hands on her.

And the fucked up thing was that this _still_ had nothing to do with Bobby himself. She simply didn't want to be touched. By anyone.

Not tonight.

Tonight Anya felt like she didn't want to be touched by anyone _ever_.

"Bobby, you say you're sorry and I get that you mean it and its ok… But however I spin this situation, the idea of going out again with you doesn't seem so hot right now." Anya tried not to sound too harsh, too bitchy. She honestly did her best. But the stuff on her mind was draining her emotionally.

Bobby nodded and looked seriously regretful for a moment.

"I understand. I really do. But if you ever decide to call me back, I'll do right by you - how about that?" His smile was hesitant, but sweet and this was one of _those_ moments - moments that screamed into your face: '_Grab me, live me, I could be magical!'_

And Anya found herself looking hard in that moments face and feelings completely devoid of the energy that it would take to grab hold of it. She simply didn't care and indifference was worse than the most scrupulous exhaustion. She watched that potentially-magic-moment race by and didn't even bother to wave it goodbye or feel sorry that it went.

But she _did_ smile to Bobby though. After all, it wasn't his fault that she needed a lobotomy performed with a sledge hammer.

"I'll hold you to that… Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go make sure whether Alicia is still vertical." Anya said, with a more natural smile. Bobby chuckled.

"Be careful to listen and knock before opening any doors." He warned. Anya shivered theatrically, making him laugh.

In truth, she wasn't going to look for Alicia at all - Ali was more able to take care of herself than anyone gave her credit for. Anya just needed to get away for a while.

Away from here, from this place, these people, her life. Always the same parties. Always the same faces, jokes, pickup lines that felt so obvious. She had never felt the smallness of her life as she did in this moment, walking around that house and for the first time, she hated it. Hated the repetitiveness, this feeling of going nowhere but the places she didn't want to be in…

She wanted _out_ of it, if only just for one night.

Like Cinderella, she wished for a break. For a breach into her reality and a breath of a new one. A dream with different colours, something exiting, something to remember.

Around the next corner Anya found what she was looking for. Alicia was seated in one of the gloriously white sofas, in the midst of a group of boys. She had all their attention for herself and she was loving it, as usual, but Anya knew that she never took it further than casual messing around. Alicia loved to play with her food, but she rarely ate it.

Anya came to a halt in front of the group, attracting their attention. Alicia noticed her instantly. She got up and went over to her friend, knowing that Anya would never come talk to her first when she was surrounded by that much attention.

"Hey." Alicia said flippantly.

"Enjoying the party?"Anya asked straight away, making Ali shrug.

"It's alright."

Anya didn't miss a beat. "Wanna go find something more than just alright?"

Alicia's eyebrows made a flip for her hairline and she was not able to hide her surprise in her voice. "Sure."

"So, do you have a particular place in mind?" Ali asked as they started to walk out of the house and into the gardens. Anya pulled her jacket over her bare shoulders. She was not cold, but out here in the street she felt too exposed in that mini dress.

"I want to go somewhere I've never been before." Anya tried to sound nonchalant as she looked back at the beautiful house and the luxurious neighbourhood.

What did teenagers do when they weren't busy making a career for themselves at 17? Anya was sure she had no idea. She had never really been outside her limits, her priorities had never shifted enough for her to want to explore something different. But now the shift had happened and its ripples was carrying – even though Anya herself had no idea why, how or when, or even what caused it. She just knew something inside her, a tiny part of her was _different,_ and that tiny change was like a thorn in her side, constantly pinching her, demanding her attention, demanding to be acknowledged, acted upon. And it demanded action that to Anya's usual senses was shocking… it was like having a different personality.

Frankly, it was irritating, this feeling of perpetually being unsatisfied, unfulfilled. It was unfair really, and Anya resented it… but despite her best efforts, she couldn't ignore it.

It was odd how something so small - infinitesimal enough that Anya had not even noticed when it had come to pass - could be so irritating, how it could shake her every day decisions so utterly.

It was freaking terrifying.

To make sense of herself, Anya told her conscience that all this was normal, healthy even. That she was the typical suburban kid with a conflicted self-image, that she wanted a change of scenery to lighten up her middle-class existence. That she was just another teenage girl thrilled by the idea of transgression, without any real thought beyond the excitement of the moment. Anya convinced herself that she was really quite predictable in her need for deviation, that it all sprang from your typical borguese boredom.

"Somewhere you've never been before huh?" Alicia thought it over for a moment.

Ali was aware that she was a little more well versed than Anya when it came to hanging out spots. She knew every pub, club and rat hole that was worth visiting in this city, but at one time or another, she had brought Anya along to most of them. It was so rare for Anya to step out of her routine and actually demand to try something new; Anastasia Rain was very adamant about her comfort zone - her wanting to step out of it was big, so Alicia wanted to take her some place _really_ new.

But _where_…

The light went on in her head, and Alicia snapped her fingers with delight.

"_Aha_, I've got it! Come on, we're a little late, but it's alright."

"Where are we going?" Anya asked, without protesting when Alicia grabbed her and walked towards the main street, holding her hand out of a taxi.

"We are going to see a fight!" Alicia said enthusiastically, as she climbed in the car after Anya and gave the address to the driver.

Anya frowned over their destination. "The Olympic Complex? There's nothing out there, it's closed down."

"That's the point." Alicia said as if it was obvious. "The call in the participants only a few hours before the event, either by phone or word of mouth, so that it doesn't spread too far. These things aren't exactly legal if you know what I mean, but I know someone that can get us in."

A thrill shot down Anya's spine.

"Oh."

"What, too borderline?" Alicia asked, honestly trying to gauche if this was too much for Anya to handle.

"No, it's fine. I want to go." Anya said firmly, sensing that the minimal hesitation would call this off. And Anya was not lying, she _wanted_ to go. Wanted to be a part of something else for a change. Something new that she had never experienced before. The thought exhilarated and frightened her at the same time.

"We could even Cleo there, if we look hard enough. She's the one who told me actually – Black was taking her along." Alicia said offhandedly, as she readjusted her makeup.

His name in Alicia's mouth was always laced with a little disdain. In the pause Alicia made so that she could reapply her lipsticks, Anya felt that she had to insert something, but the words her stuck in her throat, her heart had taken a very deep dive for her stomach and yet it seemed to be beating in the back of her throat at the same time.

How odd…

"He fights sometimes; he's good at it apparently."

"Oh…"

Alicia had no way of known the effect her words were having, how they had chilled Anya to the bone. Anya took a deep breath and tried to keep an ear out for Alicia's talking in case her 'sure' and 'right'-s were needed in the conversation. But her thoughts were too loud and jumbled to allow any concentration, her heart hammering against her ribs so forcefully that Anya thought they were going to break.

What was going on here? Was the universe persecuting her? Had she done some kind of wrong she needed to be punished for? Or was she the one that conjured these random meetings through her constant thoughts of him, her unrelenting fear of him?

But if she _really_ didn't want to see or be seen by him, if she wanted him out of her head and life so badly, then why wasn't she resisting? Why hadn't she said anything to Alicia about a change of their destination?

A small voice inside her made itself know, slowly and hesitantly.

_Curiosity…_

Desire for change, for new boundaries, for thrills. A thirst for pushing herself, maybe even breaking herself.

_Are you self destructive now? That's so predictable…_

But it wasn't. nothing about this was predictable, or even understandable. This feeling was new, it was unexpected. Anya knew what she could handle, she knew her own limits – and now she felt _confined_ by them, she wanted to destroy them. This new-found audacity scared her. The fact that she could not entirely control it scared her too. So she had thought that maybe if she made herself uncomfortable enough, she would start missing her old life, and that way get back on track.

… or maybe she was just looking to justify herself for this inexplicable self-destructive urge she couldn't conceal: she _wanted_ to see him. The changed him, the shifted him. Wanted to see if it was possible that a person who had once been the incarnation of every ounce of dread in her blood, had truly changed into someone else, someone not so scary anymore.

Again, that little whisper inside her breathed its little words in her ear softly: …_You're being nosy again…_

Anya wanted to see if she had been right, if he was now more like the kid she used to remember on the platform of Hogwarts Express. There was a tinge of melancholy mixed in there, almost like going to see an old childhood friend after a long, long time… something which he had never been, of course (and how pathetic was that really, that she held such a connection with someone who probably didn't even know she existed).

But the _idea_ of him had been comforting, all those years ago. The idea that there was someone in that castle, even though it was just _one_ other person, who was just as miserable about their situation as she was.

That she was not alone.

When one feels as lonely and abandoned as Anya used to feel those first two years, one get one's consolation from just about anything…

Even imaginary friends…

"Ok, we're here. Come on!"

Alicia hopped out of the car. Anya took a deep breath and followed.

oOoOo

Olympia centre was the way an old block of buildings was called. There had been many activities occupying those buildings, the last one being a shopping centre. Now the whole thing had been closed down for renovations and it was basically empty – and off limits for unauthorized personnel, as the big yellow sign said.

Predictably though, Alicia ignored the sign, passed the rope and was met by a boy that stopped her advance. He had dark eyes, a stocked build and hair practically all shaved off, looking all in all quite menacing. Anya took a few quick steps to stand by Alicia's side, ready to pull out her wand if she had to, but it didn't seem necessary. Alicia and the boy mumbled together a few words and then started laughing together as if they knew each other – maybe they did, with Alicia you could never tell who were the new acquaintances and who were the old ones.

After a few laughs and flirty comments, the boy told them to '_Come on in this way, I'll show you in'_, inviting them both in through a wide back door that lead to the basement.

"You're right on time." He said with a crocked smile. Anya noticed that he didn't have all of his teeth intact: some of them seemed chipped, as if pieces were missing. "The main fights haven's started yet. It's gonna be one hell of a night."

Alicia talked back, while Anya chose to remain in the back and listen, concentrating on her surroundings. They had just entered a wide dark corridor that smelled of wet paint and stale air. When the darkness of the hallway grew lighter Anya knew that they were close. Then the low roar of the crowd came to her ears and the closer they got, the more distinguishable the sounds of different names became.

They were there.

Anya tensed, her eyes widened, her breathing sped up, the smell of paint and dust clogging her nostrils. All she could think suddenly was '_what the hell am I doing here_?'

"Here we are ladies." The boy said, indicating the double doors that was wide open, where Anya could see the meshed bodies that kept screaming and cheering loudly. Alicia turned to her with an enthusiastic smile, grabbed her wrist and unceremoniously pulled Anya in the middle of the crowd, both being swallowed by it in a moment.

_AN: The "No drinking, no drugs, no kissing, no tattoos, no piercings, *no* ritual animal slaughters of any kind…" – is from the movie '10 things I hate about you'._


	4. Act 3 - Never not going to

**Act 3 – Never not going to…**

_God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing right now. I was never not coming here. This was never not going to happen. – unknown poem -_

Anya could hardly take a full breath. Everything around her was foreign and unapologetically aggressive. The air was heavy, too many people in a dungeon with too few windows; it smelled of sweat and blood and mould and it clogged into her throat, almost activating her gag reflex. The people were shoulder to shoulder and their voices mingled together as they yelled with their arms flailing about, encouraging the fighters in the middle of the room, exchanging money or making gestures to communicate over the noise.

Anya gripped Alicia's hand tighter as Ali pulled them through the horde of bodied.

"Where are you taking us?" Anya yelled, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

"Further in. We can't see a bloody thing from here."

_What_ was there to see?

But Anya followed Alicia anyway, because she hadn't _not_ wanted to come here and frankly, because she had no other choice but to keep hold on, Because Anya knew that if she let go of her friend, they'd lose each other in the crown for good.

"There they are!" Alicia yelled and pointed at somewhere in front of her. Anya looked around, but there were so many people that she couldn't distinguish anything familiar… Until a bright flash of blonde hair caught her eye.

_Oh hell…_

"_Cleo_! Over here!" Alicia yelled and waved vigorously. The blonde saw them and smiled brightly, waving them over. She had her arm laced with Lola Whitmore – one of the ballerinas at the academy that the blonde was friends with - and was standing right next to James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

Anya felt the room grow smaller as if only now the reality of her stupidity was sinking in: how could she have let this happen? She could no longer remember why she had wanted to be here in the first place, all she wanted to do was get out.

_Why do you do this to herself?_

Alicia kept dragging her along and Anya held on tighter to that wrist. Her heart was pounding, her palms were twitchy, her knees felt weak. She recognized the adrenaline shooting in her veins and wondered whether it was from fear or excitement.

Probably both.

Anya stayed in the back as Alicia greeted the boys and girls around her loudly and cheerfully while Anya only nodded and smiled their way. Even though she couldn't see her own face, she felt that her smile probably looked more like a reluctant wince than anything else.

A loud horn sounded over the racket it startled Anya out of her skin.

"The next fight's about to start." Alicia explained right next to her ear, and Anya nodded.

"You ok?" Alicia asked looking her friend over. Anya looked the picture of uncomfortableness, but her eyes were alive and alert and Alicia could see that Anya was taking everything in and storing it away the way she did with almost everything else.

"Alright ladies and fucking gentlemen, the bloody Circle is open for business." A man's raw, scratchy voice boomed through the noise. "You know the rules: betting ends once the fighters step in the circle, no touching the fighters, no shifting the bets, no stepping into the Circle. You break the rules, I break your faces boys and girls, so heads up."

"Alright then, give a loud welcome to our challenger for tonight, Emanuel 'Manny' Garcia."

The cheering was like a shockwave to Anya's ears. There was screaming, cursing and whistling but still, the crowd parted like the red sea when the fighter stepped in. They had made a circle in the middle of the room and Anya supposed that was where the action was going to happen.

Emanuel 'Manny' Garcia stepped in the room shirtless, rolling his shoulders and jumping up and down, shaking his arms at his sides. He was tall, his body defined, the muscles rippling with his movements. His dark sharp eyes perused the crowd and the goatee around his mouth made him look more menacing somehow…

Or as if he'd French-kissed the tailpipe of a car, Anya thought instinctively and couldn't help a smirk. She didn't much like facial hair in men.

"Our next fighter is someone that the regulars in this Circle know and love: the merciless, the bloody, the yet undefeated… Sirius Black!"

And it was obvious that he was 'known and loved' because the crowd went insane and Anya had the urge to put her hands over her ears, but she had to keep them out for balance because people kept pushing against her and throwing her off. She was trying to keep herself from falling and being stepped over… then she wasn't anymore…

Because when Anya first saw him step in the room, when her eyes made contact with his… her breathing literally stopped.

She had caught glimpses of his tattoos before – when she wore short sleeved T-shirts she had seen the curling ends of a tribal tattoo on one upper arm, some complex design on the underside of his other arm… but looking at all of that ink on his skin all at once, curling around his tight muscles like black intricate veins, was surprisingly shocking. The tattoos practically covered both his wide shoulders, stretching to his upper arms in twirling shapes. There was another on the right side of his chest, and another - some words Anya couldn't read - that stretched from his hip to his stomach.

But that was not the point at all - It was what Anya saw in his eyes that made her heart do the flip-flop.

The point was the expression on his face, that tight mix of violence and lethal anger, so focused that it could cut through solid concrete. The expression on his face reminded her of exactly why she stayed away from him and everyone like him. The focus of him, that harsh concentration and tension coiled in his whole being…well, it was hard not to be reminded of how much Anya really feared Sirius Black and why. How could people not see all the poison in him, Anya had wondered that often. He wasn't even good at hiding it…

The sinewy muscles under his skin stretched and rippled when he popped his fists against his opponents as an acknowledgment. A second later, fists started flying and aiming for heads, ribs, livers. They were both so fast…

After the fight started, elbows jammed into her sides and shoulders pushed at her, bouncing her back and forth but Anya could still see the two fighters at the centre of the circle going at each other.

She saw when Black's head was locked into the crook of the other one's arm. Garcia was trying to throw Black to the ground. And it was hard to miss when Black used the other guy's momentum to grab him by the neck and slam him into the floor – but not before crashing his knee into Garcia's face. Before his opponent had to time to catch his breath, Black was all over him with a ferocity that froze Anya's breath in her lungs, punching him in the face over and over and over again…

Emanuel 'Manny' Garcia's face was a bloody mess and Black just kept hitting him like an animal.

_He's going to kill him…_

The only thought running in Anya's head was '_somebody please stop him_!'.

And somebody did.

Black was pulled and thrown off his victim, who lay on the dirty floor unmovable. Even after he was pulled off Emanuel Garcia, Black was like a restless animal, pacing around as two men checked his fallen adversary.

All Anya could hear was the beating of her heart in her ears.

There was some signalling among the men on the Circle and then the big scruffy man that had introduced the fighters stepped close to Black, grabbed his wrist and lifted it up into the air. The crowd's explosive cheers were a dull roar in Anya's ears. She was too busy trying make her heart slow down. But the murderous look on Black's face was making it hard. God, his anger burned so bright, it was so acidic that it could have burned a hole through anything.

It was poisonous… And the most terrifying thing Anya had ever seen.

Where did all that hatred come from? All that violence, the unstoppable momentum of it, as if he was possessed, as if he _wanted_ to hurt people, to cause pain. As if he was blinded by it…

The blood all over him…

He was like a vision from one of her nightmares…

_Dangerous._

Yes, Anya told herself. Dangerous. And she better remember it well.

oOoOo

Anya was among the first people to get out of that damn basement. She followed Alicia to one of the allies at the back of the complex. There were more bikes parked on the sidewalk than Anya had ever seen. All kinds of them, from Harleys to Scooters, with strange designs on the plastic, in sleek vibrant colours. Even there unmoving, most of them seemed fast.

Alicia had told her that sometimes there were races around here, but Anya doubted they'd see one tonight.

Anya had managed to slip away from the group with a lame excuse and now was in the shadows of one of the buildings close by, watching as Ali, Cleo, Lola and the rest of them joked and laughed. She noticed the sneer on Alicia's face every time Black would talk to her, the mocking smirk on his whenever he talked back. She watched as Cleo laughed and hugged and touched so casually, so absentmindedly. A hand around his waist, a casual arm over her shoulders, in her brilliant blonde hair that was loose and in soft romantic waves. He had a bruise forming on his jaw, on his knuckles, but other than that, there was no sign he'd been in a violent fight tonight.

Anya turned away and made to walk around a bit, brushing off the occasional whistles and comments with the ease she always had. They meant nothing.

She didn't know why she felt so poorly all of the sudden. All she wanted was to crawl into under the covers of her bed and stay there until the gaping hole in her chest stopped hurting. This feeling was multilayered and complex, but it tasted so bitterly of disappointment that it was hard to call it by any other name.

And it hurt, it really did. It ached as if it was a physical wound, but Anya didn't want to soothe herself. This pain was all her own fault and she _wanted_ it to hurt. Maybe that would teach her not to assume things about people she didn't even know. There was a very wide gap between what she thought she knew about people, and the reality of who those people really were. And whoever Black had been when he'd been eleven was gone now. Maybe it had never existed at all, except for in Anya's imagination.

She felt so perverse all of a sudden. There had to be something twisted in her to make her mull over all this so much.

The mere thought of it made her sick.

Anya was trying to arrange her short dress so that she could sit down without flashing anyone when she heard a rustle that had nothing to do with the sounds that had come before it. It was shuffling, running and yelling that started from the people at the end of the alley and spread to the rest like wind.

When Anya heard the police sirens, she didn't have to wonder why.

_Oh, _come on!_ My very first toe out of line and I'm going to get arrested? How is that even close to fair?_

There was moment of pause in which everything seemed to suspend… and then all hell broke out. Everyone started running at once, people pushed and pulled, yelled. It was like falling in the middle of a chaotic dream you could not stop. Like looking at the world from a moving carousel. The roars of cars and bikes came to life and scattered without turning on their headlight. That was when Anya started worrying more about not being trampled then about being arrested.

And she was worried about Alicia.

It was her that Anya went looking for, going against the crowd at where she had seen Alicia last. The confusion was insane. The faster people tried to move, the slower everything seemed to become. It was as if the chaos slowed things down.

The police cars blocked both ways of the street and troopers started coming out. When she saw the men in uniform was the moment when Anya panicked.

The police was there one moment and the next the officers were everywhere, jumping on everyone they could get their hands on and slapping handcuffs in place. Anya felt her heart in her throat. She stuck to the shadows, moving slowly and silently as to not attract attention, willed her breathing and heart rate to slow, made her eyes _look_. Search for her friend.

Anya saw both of them almost at the same time.

She saw Alicia at the edges of the crowd, almost hidden in the shadows of the alley as they ran with Cleo and the other girls. Potter was with them and his friends were too. Potter turned his head back to scan the scattering crowd, looking terribly distressed and even a little angry. Anya followed his eyes – and saw _him_.

A policemen had him against the hood of a car and was in the process of snapping handcuffs on him. All the while Back had that arrogant smirk plastered all over his face and kept talking. Anya had no idea what he was saying, but from the furrowing brow and sneer that came over the officer, she knew it was nothing good. The policemen slapped Black against the car violently and then just as gracelessly dragged him into the back seat of his service car.

Anya had no pity for Black as she watched the scene. The triumphant smirk on his face made her despise him. And even when the policemen turned his back, the expression did not slip off. It was no pretence. He was all defiance and harsh arrogance, till the end. He did not care. Anya reckoned he was even proud to break the rules, as if it was some sort of personal achievement.

She snorted, made herself look away and try to figure out how to reach Alicia, when something strange happened. Something that should not have happened, not here, in a the middle of a panicked, hysterical crowd of muggles.

The police car shook violently, as if it had been hit with an invisible hammer. There was such chaos around, nobody noticed it but the people who had been already looking.

Anya stopped breathing, eyes wide, unable to look away even if she'd wanted to.

She felt her heart stutter in her chest.

Anya could see nothing else, nothing but the way Black snapped to attention, then way he frantically tried to get himself free. His alarm, alarmed her in turn. The car shook again and this time it was more violent. He hit his head against the glass window so hard that the glass seemed to crack a little. Anya's breath froze in her lungs.

He was cuffed, locked in, helpless.

And there was magic at play here. Someone was doing something nasty from the sidelines.

This was all a bad joke, Anya thought irritably. A stupid, sadistic joke that the universe had perverted out of its farthest, nastiest rear-end – and it had done so specifically with Anya in mind, for some malicious reason…

But all these scattered thoughts were just fractions, because Anya was already moving. Swiftly, silently, without giving herself the chance to even form half a reasonable thought – because she knew that if she did that, she would talk herself out of this madness in the blink of an eye. So she stuck to the shadows, didn't get out of the corners as she ran. She was close enough to unlock the car's door within 4 seconds. Maybe it had been her nerves, maybe because her heart was beating wildly, but her spell was a little more out of control than usual: the door almost ripped out of its hinges because if it.

That happened almost at the same time as the car shook again, so violently this time that Anya took a staggering step backwards.

What was he doing, _why_ wasn't he getting out?

Her heart was in her throat, her hands were shaking so she tightened her fingers around her wand. All the rest of the world had disappeared, she didn't even hear the screaming and shouting from all around her anymore. She was too scared to get closer, she could feel the heat of the magical residue the car has been hit with – with tinkled the skin of her legs.

Just as she was about to scream for him to get the hell out, Black slipped out the door, and almost fell face-first on the ground when the car shook again. The open door would have crashed on him, or god only knew what else could have happened – if Anya hadn't grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away at the last second.

She didn't wait for the next breath before unlocking his cuffs while she was still capable of remembering how. The reverberations of her careless spell cut his skin a little, making him bleed, but he didn't even seem to notice.

There was a gash on his forehead. Anya almost passed out at the sight of all that blood coating the side of his face.

Next thing Anya knew that was he'd grabbed her elbow and without another word hauled her into a run but before they had gone so much as five feet, Anya heard the bloodcurdling sound of metal against metal. She turned and saw the strangest and scariest thing she had ever seen: the vehicle bounced in the air as if kicked on the side by some invisible force (Anya could feel the heat of the spell even where she was standing, the violence of it prickled her skin), spun and landed hard and upside down with a terrible noise of crunching metal and glass… just a few yards away from them.

Anya only saw a little part of this, because for god knows what reason, Black had pushed her to the ground and almost fallen on top of her. Anya landed on her elbows hard and the ricocheting pain made her feel like she'd dislocated both shoulders. The burning sensation went from her elbows straight to her head and she knew that she'd just lost a lot of skin because of that fall. She felt something sting her legs, but it wasn't so bad. Her elbows hurt more…

Still, after two second, she dared look at in the car's direction, and felt lucky. Better to have skinned elbows and a couple of scratches than to be powdered under the police car that had managed to land upside down. If Black had been inside that thing, he'd have had some _serious_ damage…

"Did you hit your head? Hey, answer me! Did you…"

Her response was automatic. "No. No I …"

"Ow _shit_…" He was looking at her elbows and then to the bleeding scratches on her thighs, the frown on his face making him look menacing. The tinge of fear in her flickered more insistently and Anya wished he was anyone but himself. This would have been so much easier if he hadn't been Sirius Black, if she didn't fear him quite so much.

"I'm sorry you're hurt, but we have to move. Come one, get up." But he didn't give her a chance to since he practically lifted her on her feet himself. Anya didn't see much of her surroundings, the burn of her elbows was distracting her, the sounds around her just a fuzz in her ears. God, it hurt _so_ badly, she could hardly believe it… But she ran when she was told, stayed down when she saw him do the same even though at every move the scratches on her thigh burned.

They hid between cars until they were in a dark alley. His grip on her arm was slippery and it wasn't until she could stop moving and take a full breath that Anya notice the blood that was coating forearms. Her jacket had ripped at the elbows and the blood was soaking it through, tricking down from the tips of her fingers.

That sight of it scared her more than the whole evening put together.

"Do you still have your wand?" his voice was terse, his breathing harsh but not irregular. Anya felt as if her lungs were on fire. The numbness of her right hand finally made sense. Her knuckles were white – she had been holding on to that piece of wood that tightly.

"Good. Hold on to me, I'm going to Dissaparate back to my bike…"

"_Anya!" _

Alicia's urgent voice cut through Black's command. Alicia herself followed and she slammed into Anya, wrapping her arms around her and holding on tight. Anya tried to keep her wince to herself as best as she could.

"Oh _god_, I was so worried. And when I saw you dashing for the car, I almost fainted. Are you…_ Holy fuck_, you're bleeding!"

"I'm ok. I'm fine. We have to go." Anya managed to say and saw Alicia nod vigorously.

"Where is everyone?" Black asked, making himself known again. Anya looked at Black when he spoke. His face was unreadable, blank, his stare cold and his mouth set in a harsh expression. Cold fury burned behind his eyes, so strong that she felt she needed to put more space between them.

For the first time, Anya managed to wrap her head around the last 2 minutes of her life and what had happened during them. They were a blur in her memory, of fear, adrenaline and screams. Of a lot of noise and too little thinking. Now that she looked back, she was more afraid of herself, of her impulses, than she had been the whole time during which everything happened. Now she knew something she had not known before: she was capable of impressive depths of stupidity. In fact she was appalled at how blatantly she had disregarder herself. How foolish she had been…

The fear of herself, of her actions was translating now into shivers.

_Dangerous…_

That word just kept ricocheting through her brain.

"Remus and Peter are driving the girls home. James stayed behind with me, but I don't know where…" Alicia hadn't finished her sentence when Potter appeared at Black's side, a grim smile on his face that left his eyes untouched.

"Hey mate. You alright?"

"Yeah. Just a scratch." Black murmured, whipping the blood from his brow carelessly. He then turned his head to look at Anya. She had not been expecting his eyes to find hers and involuntarily had the urge to look away. She didn't even hold his eyes for two seconds, but it was enough to see the coldness of him through them. It flickered when he looked at her, but never quite faded out.

He seemed as if he was made of ice and hatred and nothing more.

What had happened with the police car had really shaken him. Or really angered him - Anya wasn't sure which.

"She got to you before I did." Potter said warmly, and smiled in Anya's direction.

"Yup, she sure did. Thanks by the way." Black said, smirking at her, the blankness of his expression fading into something else just as unreadable.

"Sirius Black. This is James Potter." He said as he extended his hand to her. Anya did her best not to wince as she did the same. "I wouldn't say you saved my life, but you definitely did save at least two or three decades of it."

She managed a shaky smile, trying to push the panic down, trying to subdue her frantic heartbeat.

"You're welcome. I just hope I never have to do it again."

This time, his smirk touched his eyes, a little tinge of amusement warmed them. "I'm right with you on that one. How about you let me look at those elbows – I'm good with gashes." He assured her and this time, his eyes were not cold at all. It was as if they belonged to someone else.

The sight of blood probably pulled at his conscience… assuming he had one.

"She has to go to the hospital."

"It's just skinned elbows Ali, it's not so bad. And we should wait until the police clears out before we move." Anya heard herself say. She was feeling so disconnected she had no idea how her lips managed to move.

"What? Why?"

"Because I don't much fancy ending up in jail and because someone just tried to make an omelette out of Black here - and that someone might still be out there, so I suggest we lay low for a while." Anya snapped, realizing only as she spoke the words that they were absolutely true and had been on her mind for a while as well. Neither of the boys contradicted her and that was as good as a confirmations as she was going to get.

Alicia looked like she was trying very hard to find a loophole to that logic, but in the end she just opted for a deep frown.

"Fine. Anya, let me see those elbows." she said, turning to her friend with eyes full of concern. When Anya did as she was told and Alicia got a good look at those elbows, she paled a little, her throat tightening.

"Ok, this is worse than it looks, we need to get you to St Mungos." Alicia said, not minding for once that her voice came out so breathless. _Damn_ that was a lot of blood! She had been an intern at St Mungos twice and she knew enough about wounds to know that his one was sure to be trouble if not treated at once.

Anya was shaking her head before the thought even fully registered. She _despised_ hospitals and was afraid of them even more.

"It'll be fine, it just needs some dressing."

Alicia frowned. "Don't be stubborn, I'm can't let you bleed to death on me. Your mother and mine would take turns at skinning me alive."

"Let me look at that…" Black murmured and reached for Anya's forearm, taking hold of her gently and making her turn so that he could see the wound better. He didn't even change breathing patterns at the sight of her blood and Anya admired that. She had been struggling to keep her head cool ever since she realized that she was bleeding.

The mere thought of being hurt that badly gave her shivers.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing Black?" Alicia snapped at him, trying to keep her voice down. She was way more qualified than him to treat a wound, and she was about to tell him so, until she saw the movement of his wand over Anya's torn skin, and the way that skin started to knit itself back together - slowly but steadily.

Ok, so the boy knew his way around gashes, so what?

Anya breathe a sigh of relief. The hot burning in her elbows started to calm down to a manageable level. She didn't dare look yet, but the pain was not so bad.

"That should hold you for now." Black said as he cleaned the blood off her forearms with what was left of her jacket. He sounded neutral enough, but his that promise of violence that had been so burning in his eyes moments ago was barely veiled by his control. He still hadn't let go of his anger…

"Thanks. That feels better." Anya said as she took the cloth from him and finished cleaning up herself. At least now it didn't fell like hell to simply move. The pain was down to a dull ache and the bleeding had stopped almost entirely.

"You still do need to get it checked out. I'm no professional Healer. Now for your leg…"

"That's fine, it's just a couple of scratches. I'll clean them up once I get home." Anya hurried to explain. She didn't want him to come that close to her.

"You sure?" He asked, looking at her right thigh with a small frown. Anya nodded. She was more than just sure, she was _positive_.

"It looks clean enough, but you should check for pieces of glass anyway, just to be sure." Black added as if absentmindedly as he took out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips. Anya was taken aback for a second – she didn't know he smoked…

"Since when are you so proficient in healing Black?" Alicia asked and thought her tone was not devoid of challenge, the usual bite was not there.

"The things you don't know about me could fill the Pacific, McKenzie." He shot back. He was tamer than usual, but the dismissive coldness of his manner made up of the lack of bite in his tone. Alicia snorted. Then she decided that she'd had enough of Black's jabs and tried for Potter. She had a whole other bone to pick with him.

"Did you catch the one that as tampering with that car?" Alicia enquired and Anya realized that she did not want to be here for this conversation. She did not want to head these things. She wanted to go home!

"No."

"Did you at least see who it was?"

Potter hesitated before answering. "No. It was too dark."

But Alicia was practically a living bullshit detector – being brought up by two people who basically lied for a living had its advantages – so she could smell a lie before Potter even realized he'd decided he was going to tell one. She narrowed her eyes at him, disbelief pouring out of her ever pore.

Anya wasn't so observant as her friend, but she did notice the look that Potter and Black exchanged. Just like that, with one simple look, an entire conversation seemed to pass between them.

Alicia got the hint: they weren't going to talk about it.

"_Fine_, be that way. But just in case you forgot, my friend almost got flattened herself trying to get your ass out of that car, so she has the right to know who the hell was crazy enough to pull that kinda shit in the middle of a muggle crowd." She bit out.

"I don't hear her demanding answers." Black pointed out calmly, even al little surprised as he looked over from Alicia and straight into Anya's eyes.

Anya didn't say anything for a moment or two. She felt the weight of three pairs on eyes on her.

"I don't wanna know." She finally said, surprising all three of them. She meant every word and it was the heaviness that each of them carries that silenced the other three for a few moments. The gravity in Anya's tone seemed to bring into sharper focus that fact that this was not the usual prank. Sirius didn't want to admit it, but he was reluctant to think about what could have happened to him if he hadn't gotten out in time.

He tried to be still and not think about it, about the 'who' and the 'why' and the 'how'. None of it was going to get him anywhere… but it was impossible to keep his mind from preying on itself. If he didn't do something, he was bound to start clawing at himself the way Moony did when he had no company on full moons.

"You never told me your name."

Anya looked up. He was almost in front of her, leaning against the other wall of the alley and since it as pretty narrow, he was pretty close… and looking at her right in the eyes. She swallowed, thinking of a way to evade answering, then not finding one and surrendering.

"Anastasia. I think it's safe to get out now."

In fact, it was almost quiet. The night had finally settled into itself and for the first time, Anya felt that she could breathe again. But the walls were still closing in. She didn't like the narrow alley, it brought everything closer. Brought closer his inquisitive eyes that looked over at her in a frank and unapologetic way, as if he had a god give right to pry his way into anything he liked, just because he could.

"You're right." Potter said as he pushed off the wall. "Ok, Alicia I know you can Disapparate, what about you?" Potter asked looking at Anya. She simply nodded.

"She's in no shape to do it herself and Side-Along is still too dangerous. You'll both get hurt if you try." Black said flatly. Anya narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth tightening. The last nerve that was still intact in her snapped: how was it possible for him to sound so assured - as if it would be impossible for him to be wrong, and so dismissive at the same time - as if he couldn't care less if tried?

_Arrogant bastard!_

When Black noticed her look, he simply raised an eyebrow, as if he was silently asking '_what_?'

Anya straightened her spine.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you. Nothing hurts and even if something did, I know my own limits." She said coldly – and watched Black shrug nonchalantly, a flicked of amusement dancing in his eyes. How could he just stand there, saying nothing, but with that _look_ in his eyes as if he was laughing at everything she was saying?

That took some practice… and serious issues.

"Ali, can I sleep over tonight, I don't want my mum to freak over this." Anya pointed at her elbows.

Alicia didn't need persuasion. "You got it. Come on, hold on to me and visualise that spot under the cherry tree we always sit on."

"Got it."

"You guys should go ahead. We'll give you a five minute head start so the noise doesn't attract any unwanted attention."

Potter nodded and gave both of them a genuine smile, even though his eyes were still weary with all the things he had not said.

"Thank you. Goodnight girls, keep safe."

"You too James. Black." Alicia's words to Potter were as warm as her salute to Black was curt.

"Nighty-night McKenzie. Goodnight No-Surname Anastasia." He smirked at he looked at her over his shoulder, his face full of mischievousness. "Maybe I'm going to call you my Guardian Angel from now on."

Anya raised an eyebrow, practically radiating the irony she felt.

"Your '_Guardian Angel'_? Really? Where do you think you are, in a John Hugens movie?" She deadpanned - which surprisingly enough, made him laugh.

That was when Anya realized that no matter what people said about him, Sirius Black didn't take himself seriously at all.

"God no, I'm more of a horror fan myself." He said as the laughter still danced in his eyes. And all of a sudden, his expression went from playful to intent on her, so fixed and still that Anya frowned and crossed her hands over her chest, and unconscious defensive gesture.

"I know it's rude to ask, but I don't give a damn. Why did you stick your neck out for me?"

And his posture might have been casual, but all that was locked behind his eyes wasn't. His voice was not as harsh as it had been before, and this time he cared because he wanted an answer…

But this was the time he was not going to get one.

Anya angled her head trying to keep her best poker face on. "Would you rather I'd left you there?"

His smile spoke of someone who easily got the hint. He wouldn't push her. Maybe he didn't really care enough to do so. "Nope. Doesn't matter anyway; I owe you one. And I always pay my debts. Goodnight."

Then they were both gone… and Anya was left there with Alicia staring at the back of her head. Anya could literally feel her friend's questions burning the nape of her neck.

"You want to know too, don't you?" Anya stated.

"You bet your ass I do. I thought you hated the guy!"

Anya sighed and turned to her friend, thought back at those panicked moments when the crowd had exploded, everyone trying to escape in all directions. Thought back at the panic of not being able to find Alicia in it.

Anya shrugged and looked at her friend right in the eye. "I'm not his biggest fan, no, but still… What would you have done?"

Alicia held Anya's gaze for a minute, and then rolled her eyes, letting it drop. And Anya was glad that her friend had been satisfied, that Ali hadn't caught her lie.

It was true that Alicia would have jumped the fire for a friend, that was who she was. She was selfless and so very brave; reckless and strong. But Anya was not like that. She'd never had that kind of courage, she was not that strong and she was certainly not reckless. Anya did not act on impulses, she wanted precise choreographies. Anya wouldn't sacrifice herself like that for someone else, it was not in her nature.

What had happened tonight, had happened for entirely selfish reasons and Anya was well aware of that.

But no one else needed to be.


	5. Act 4 - Under the feathers

**Act 4 – Under the feather of the white swan**

_Ballet's image of perfection is fashioned amid a milieu of wracked bodies, fevered imaginations, Balkan intrigue and sulphurous hatreds, where anything is likely, and dancers know it. -Shana Alexander-_

The corridor was packed with students waiting for class to start, stretching, massaging their feet, chatting or reading, playing cards. Only one girls was standing, there near the window with the tips of her fingers brushing the glass and eyes lost in the distance. But after a few minutes even she got away from that little corner of silence and sat down to work at her shoes.

Anya had sixteen pairs of dance shoes, five of which she always carries with her - a different pair for different kind for work she needed to get done: soft, pliable shoes for the lyrical styles, stiff shoes, with hard and thick shanks for the more aggressive choreographies with lots of turns and jumps. And of course, backups for any today she was breaking in a new pair, because one of her practicing shoes were wearing thin.

She had curved the soles against the hard floor to better fit the arch of her feet and then she would darn them, and that was it. Other ballerinas tried all they could to soften a shoe before dancing in it for the first time: heating or hitting the box with something to soften it, wetting the shank so that it fit more snugly – anything to make them more comfortable, because breaking in a new shoe hurt like hell. The immediate result was always blisters, splinted nails and bleeding toes.

But Anya preferred to properly fit her shoes to her feet by dancing in them. The more you maltreated your shoes, the sooner you'd have to replace them, so in the long run, it was much more convenient to simply dance in new shoes for a while and stand the pain. But then again, Anya had potions to help her heal the worst of it faster than any muggle medicine could, so it was unfair for her to judge.

Anya was sewing the ribbons in place when she felt someone flop down right beside her, with a deep sigh. She knew without looking that it was Alicia. Her perfume was unique enough to stand out in the midst of twenty other girls.

Alicia grunted at Anya's side. Anya stopped sewing and looked up, puzzled. Alicia was hiding half her face behind huge dark glasses.

"What's up with you?"

Alicia groaned again. "I have _the mother_ of headaches… and I still can't believe last night was not a dream from a bad hangover."

"No, it wasn't." Anya said simply as she went about her work.

"Who do you think would want to make Black into puree?" Alicia still wanted to speculate on that. She'd been going at it all night and Anya was too tired to input anymore.

"I think a shorter list would be that with people who _wouldn't_ want to." Anya answered absentmindedly.

Alicia scoffed. "Well, he's not the most charming guy in the world, but still… killing him seems excessive."

_Not for some people… _his_ people…_

But Anya did say that out loud. She was not even supposed to know that.

"Hey, girls!"

Anya looked up only to see a group of three girls that had just come in the front door of the hall. She smiled and saluted back. They sat right in front of Anya and Alicia and started going through the morning drills. Stretches, warm ups.

"… he was so nice and polite and funny and completely cheeky but never rude and when he opened the door of the pub for me I could have _died_…" Cleo's voice filtered in, bringing the remains of her previous conversation, her words wafting in Anya's brain like a bad smell. Even though Anya hadn't listened to the first part of the sentence, she knew exactly who the blonde was talking about.

Anya poked her finger with the needle accidentally as she put the thing back inside her bag. Why did this feel so close, so personal? Why was she so frustrated, so bloody furious? Why had last night made everything stand out in brighter colours?

It was all so confusing…

"That's too many adjectives Cleo." Mary said softly, tone completely neutral. She would have been more subtle if she'd worn an '_I don't give a shit_' sign on her forehead.

"Whatever. His friend James was nice too, and so funny. And then the fight, _god_, I can't even describe it. He's so _strong_!" Cleo sighed dreamily.

"And wouldn't you know it, he is one hell of a kisser too, so spontaneous…"

Diana murmured something Anya didn't catch. Cleo laughed. She had a delightful laughter. Anya couldn't help and involuntary twitch at the dulcet sound, and she almost ended up losing her hold on her leg as she stretched it almost over her head.

"The evening ended a little, well, let's say abruptly, but still, it was the most perfect date ever. All so exiting and adventurous…" Another deep sigh and then, in a breathy voice: "Ah… I'm _so_ in love."

"You only had _two_ dates." Mary noted with a raised eyebrow, sceptical as always of Cleo's easy falls.

"Yeah, but I also had his tongue down my throat and his hands up my…"

"_Cleo_!" Diana warned.

Anya kept stretching with a vengeance, pretending hard that she wasn't hearing anything out of the ordinary… which in a way was true. This was Cleo's routine almost every other month or so. But never before had it made Anya feel so… so…

There were no words!

Anya huffed and made a clean, fast work of taking off her workout gear. She was about to get up and get out of there. In a second. Yes, in just a moment…

_Why are you lingering, you masochist!_

"Would you just shut up about that bloke already? Why is nobody asking me why I'm in such a bad mood, huh?" Diana snapped at her two friends. As if it wasn't obvious, Anya thought, but was still grateful for the interruption of Cleo's love-life account.

Cleo arched a perfect eyebrow at Diana.

"Jealous much, miss D.?" the blonde asked, smiling, meaning no harm, but Diana glared at her nonetheless.

In Anya's modest (or maybe not so modest) opinion, it did not take a genius to know why Diana was huffing like an angry cat. As soon as Anya had seen the new pointe shoes that Diana was pounding against the floor vigorously, she had known what the problem was. She could even give the green-eyed girl some useful tips, but as it were, Anya really couldn't care less.

"Why please, do enlighten us! Why are you bitchy-er than usual this fine morning?" Anya heard Alicia ask flatly.

"I have new shoes to break in." Diana practically growled.

"But I thought you just bought a new pair, like three weeks ago or something?" Alicia noted, surprised and confused. Her dark glasses were still in place – probably the sunlight was bothering her because of the headache. This morning Alicia had gotten up, washed her face, put on the first thing that she had seen in her closed, put her hair up in a careless bun and went out the door. To top it off, she had had little to no sleep and had a splitting head ache… and yet, she looked fabulously sexy, as if she'd done the whole 'just out of bed' look on purpose.

And just like that, the fact that Alicia managed to look so sexy when she was so beat down irritated Anya's nerves even further.

_Fuck beautiful girls, really. Just fuck them wherever they are. Cant the bitches just shuffle off a cliff and die?_

Anya would have wanted to cringe away from that thought as if it was the slip of a moment, something that she didn't really mean… but she couldn't. It was a mean, petty, small-hearted and envious thought - but it was also fully honest. It was Anya's thought, her point of view. She could even have argued it logically had she been calm enough.

In that moment, even though the girls were talking only two feet from her, they might as well have been in another universe. Because even though Alicia was a friend, the one girl Anya even came close to being _real_ friends with, in that moment Anya hated her. She hated her but the feeling had nothing to do with Alicia herself. Alicia was great, Anya loved Alicia. That was not the problem here… It was much more complicated than that. It really wasn't Alicia… it was everything else _about_ Alicia.

It was the elegantly dishevelled hair in her bun, those high cheekbones and the perfectly plum lips. It was Cleo's brilliant hair and her epic tits, her symmetrical features and perfectly shaped eyes.

It was her way of flirting so easily. It was Diana's effortlessness when touching perfect strangers and how she could laugh at every joke and make it look so sincere… it was the fact that it may very well _be_ sincere. It was how all of them managed to look so shagable so naturally, as if they didn't rehears the pout and the smile and the kisses in front of mirrors before they went out.

But most of all, what made Anya absolutely furious was the fact that in that moment of honesty with herself, in moment like this, when she rebellious enough not to be afraid of her flaws, Anya could admit that all these things didn't irritated her as much as the fact that she was _nothing_ like them. And that because of that, Anya found herself jealous of them.

Especially lately. Lately more than ever actually…

If this difference with her friends hadn't showed that much before was because Anya had never cared. But now that divide was making itself known in strange ways. Alicia, Cleo, Diana, they were a world apart from her. Anya couldn't be closer to them, because they were too different. There was no wrong or right party, they were just so different. Their jokes were not Anya's. What they found funny, to Anya seemed silly, what was important to them, was on the bottom (or close) of Anya's list of priorities.

So why was Anya friends with them? Were they even really friends? Or was it just a way to pass the time? To Anya this had never mattered before. One was the same as the other. Alicia was great at keeping secrets, she was smart, brave, she was fun to be around. Cleo was light as butterbeer, with an attitude so easygoing she made friends with everyone. So what if Anya didn't share herself with any of them or didn't even want to? What difference did it make? She had never cared about these things before… but she cared now. To the point where it was almost hard to breathe because her stomach felt like it had substituted her lungs.

Right in that moment the loneliness that was weighting down on her was so strong that it made Anya feel as if she was the only breathing person on the face of the planet. The world _'alone' _stretched into a whole new meaning, and it encompassed her in a unyielding embrace of solitude.

Because, in all honest-to-god truth, Anya didn't hate those girls because they were prettier or more sociable, though that was a perfectly reasonable excuse. She didn't hate anyone, not really…

She was just so _angry_!

Furious at everything that moved, because everything that Anya was _not_, everything she _didn't_ have, everything that was her _opposite_ – was sitting right in front of her made flesh and blood in the shape of Clarisse _'just call me Cleo'_ Georgina Williams. In that moment it seemed that Cleo was put in the face of this earth just to remind Anya of what she could never be, what she could never have.

It stood to logic that someone who liked girls like Cleo could never like girls like Anya. Someone who liked white couldn't like black as much, someone who loved sunshine wouldn't be so hot for thunderstorms. It was that simple… Pure common sense that left no space for reasonable doubt.

Anya found this difficult to swallow. It hurt knowing that the kind of girl _he_ liked was Anya's very opposite in every way.

Strange how much of jealousy was actually pain over a phantom rejection. The humiliation tasted like dirt: dry and coarse in Anya's mouth. Just by being herself, Cleo humiliated her, and it wasn't even conscious.

In that moment, Anya knew she could have cried. She felt the prickling in her eyes, the tightening of her throat. It wasn't a flow, it was more like a single pair of perfectly shaped drops of salt water were about to make a show, just to remind her that despite all the bullshit she filled her own head with, Anya still couldn't lie to her tear-ducks. That she was not as unreachable as she wanted to be.

Anya bent forward, pretending to do some exercise or other and angrily wiped them away, mentally telling them to fuck off because this was her body and mind _she_ pulled the strings here.

"What do you use for your shoes Mary?"

The addressed girl looked up from her work; a curl had escaped the bun and fallen on her face.

"My dad fixes my shoes. He glues some kind of thin material to the platform. I don't know what it is, but it's fantastic. I never dance without it."

"Oh, well, why didn't you say something!" Diana snapped, as she looked at her friend, who didn't even flinch.

"Why should I?" Mary responded coolly enough to dissuade the girls from pressing the topic further. Diana huffed and mumbled something nobody heard but as it were, nobody needed a great imagination to know what she had said and nobody particularly cared.

"You could try ripping out the satin at the platform, or take an X-acto knife and make little criss-cross scores on it." Cleo suggested. Diana and Mary scoffed. It was hard for Anya not to do the same, but she tried to keep quiet.

"Yeah, right. Sasha would break the box of my shoe on my head for something like that."

"Is she that bad?" Cleo asked.

Anya could have glared at her. Instead she glared at the floor.

_Yeah, because you wouldn't know, wouldn't you blondie? You don't have the feet, talent, or balls to be in her class… or any self-respecting ballet teacher's class, for that matter._

"Are you kidding? She's like, _obsessed_ when it comes to damaging pointe shoes." As she spoke, Diana's excitement grew. "She sent me out of class once, because I'd done that criss-crossing thing you said. It was insane."

Diana didn't like Sasha in the same way all of her students didn't like Sasha: because she put them through hell and was as subtle as a car crash. Sasha wanted everyone's best. She wanted perfection - demanded it. And got lots of tears along the way. Some dropped out of her class because they could handle the pressure. But - and this was also a given - most girls and boys who had had the skill to make it to her class were used to bitchy, insensitive, compulsively-demanding teachers by now. Sensitive egos and thin skins were something you couldn't afford to keep if you wanted to be good in ballet. You had to steel yourself, be able to take anything.

Especially callous teachers, because they reflected what the real world would be for dancers out there. Sasha had very little sensitivity and practically zero patience for mistakes if you didn't start correcting them by the second or third try. Anya knew better than anyone actually, how much of a pain Sasha could be, but that didn't stop her from adoring and respecting the hell out of her mentor.

"Sasha's all about naturally breaking in a shoe and all that. Total bullshit, really. She's just sadistic if you ask me. Just because she can't dance anymore, she likes to make it harder for us." Diana murmured as she tried to curve the sole of her shoe.

"I hear she still practices after hours." Alicia said tightly, locking her gaze with Diana's, but Diana ignored the warning.

"Oh, _please_. It's not like she can ever go onstage, her spine is all fucked up. Besides, it be like watching my mother dance!" Diana said, causing general laughter.

"Try grandmother." Cleo added with a giggle.

The girls around her chuckled and it was all Anya could do not to tear their hair out. How dared they, these pissy little nobodies with their noses in the air, insult one of the greatest ballerinas to ever step on stage?

"She was unique. There will never be someone else like her." Mary said flatly and even though Anya didn't even like the girl, she felt her heart warm for her. Being a cold bitch never stopped Mary from being fair.

"Honestly love, cruises down the memory lane are so freaking boring." Diana said offhandedly.

"So are the whines of mediocre talents." Anya said, her voice cold as ice, sharp as razorblades. This brought down a strange silence among the girls, who looked at her as if Anya had suddenly spouted off two heads. In the back of her mind, Anya thought that under different circumstances, spouting off another head would have been less surprising than her willfully involving herself in what was sure to become a confrontation. But right now, she was too pissed to hide it.

"Excuse me?" Diana was too surprised to master something else.

"No, I don't think I will. And you shouldn't be so sure of yourself either Cleo, seeing that in any case with those feet of yours, even a sledge-hammer has a better shot at ballet than you do." Anya said calmly, even as her palms started sweating badly. Her heart was hammering against her chest so steadily she was sue her ribs would bruise.

Cleo turned to her, wide eyed, unbelieving.

"What did you say to me?" The blonde asked in an astounded whisper.

"You heard me just fine." Anya snapped.

"Take it easy Anya. You too Cleo. Just back off, all right." Alicia's voice was more forceful this time.

Diana and Cleo were used to listening to Alicia, but this time Anya's jab had been more sharp than… well, ever. Anya just didn't speak to anyone like that. But Cleo knew that Anya had a soft spot for Sasha. She gritted her teeth together and didn't say anything, thinking she was being the bigger woman here, letting go of the offense.

"I still think you should try moleskin. It works even on linoleum!" Cleo said evenly to Diana, trying to change the topic by pretending Anya was transparent.

Usually it was so easy…

"Moleskin is for quieting clunky-sounding shoes, not for friction. It gets even more slippery after some time." Anya deadpanned even thought it was clear she was uninvited in their conversation.

Yes, pretending Anya was not there always worked, but none of those girls had ever thought that it was so easy only because Anya always wanted it to be so.

"Your shoes are Petipa's right?" Anya enquired coldly. She could practically feel Alicia's burning stare and mentally flipped her off.

Diana looked even more surprised than before. "Yeah… My mom bought them to me in Italy. It's the first time I use that mark."

"Well, Petipas tend to get a little slippery before they are really broken in; it's because of the sating that is used to make them. You should try darning with a double thread. It works very well if you do it right." Anya was talking as if nothing major was coming out of her mouth, ignoring the looks she was receiving.

Diana frowned and then looked at Anya with one eyebrow slightly raised.

"Well, I always used to put rubber on the tips and pleats of the shoes for traction, it's works just fine."

Anya rolled her eyes. How were you supposed to perform a _rond de jambe en terre_ and _tendus_ with you feet sticking to the floor? You couldn't, and in fact Diana didn't.

"I know you did and that's your problem. The rubber may be more or less harmless for your technique on a smooth surface, but with the new floors, it grips too tightly, makes you lose precision. That's why you have been lifting your feet a little when you do certain exercises, which makes them wrong."

Diana blinked a couple of times, offended and starting to show it. She didn't know what to make of Anastasia's sudden personality transplant, not knowing if this was just usual Anya-like advice (cold and insensitive, but bloody helpful) or something purposefully bitchy meant to humiliate. The way Anya was looking right at her with something of the like of arrogance on her seemingly calm face made Diana think it was the second of those options.

_Who knew, the little kitten has claws…_

"Anyway, if you can't darn, then dip the darned tip in coca cola. Its sweet and sticky, works every time like a charm. That won't help you get your _fifth position_ right though – I don't think there's anything that can do _that_." Anya spoke breezily, as if she had said nothing of great importance, as she rolled her shoulders and cranked her neck.

"Jesus Anya, are you PMS-ing or something?" Alicia's tone was a mix between disbelief and outrage. Anya felt her jaw tense, but she kept her emotions at bay.

"I'm just giving advice for someone who is in obvious need of it. I thought that was what friends do." she said coldly.

Diana scoffed. "And that explains why you have so many friends. And quit talking like you're so fucking perfect. Just because you suck up to Sasha's ass and she tolerates you, that doesn't make you the shit in here, princess." Diana bit out, the revulsion in her eyes palpable.

Anya pinned Diana down with a steely gaze, praying that all her frustration would give her the strength to keep her nerve.

"You got the logic upside down on that one. I _am_ 'fucking perfect', which makes me 'the shit in here', as you so eloquently put it through your 300 words vocabulary. _That_ is why Sasha 'tolerates' me. So don't bother comparing us unless you enjoy disappointment."

Anya was very proud of her steady voice as she got up and walked off before any of the girls said anything more. She heard the explosion of whispers behind her back and Diana's sharp rumble of words.

"… her head so far up her own ass that she'll be spitting through her bellybutton now that she got that RBC offer…"

Anya barely registered it, because even though she looked calm, she was lacking lucidity. Her hands were shaking. She fisted them at her sides. Just as she got into the classroom they would be practicing in, Anya heard the door open again. She knew who it was.

"Why did you do that?"

Alicia was right at her side. Anya went at the barre as if she hadn't heard her and grabbed hold of the smooth wood firmly, as if that mere gesture was comfort.

It was – it gave her balance.

"Would you answer the fucking question? What _was_ that?"

"Like I said, that was me, giving some useful advice." Anya said very evenly, as she brought her leg up so high it was right in front of her face.

"No, that was you playing the know-it-all bitch." Alicia pointed out, her voice rough, irritation bleeding through.

"It only seems that way because they knew so very little." Anya responded, even more coolly, the little curl of her lips was practically invisible. Now that the big dark glasses off, Anya could see Alicia's reddened eyes and the circles beneath them.

Alicia stared, unbelieving. "God, you're so arrogant sometimes." She murmured, and there was something more to her tone.

Anya looked at her friend in the eye. She wanted to yell, give Alicia a piece of her mind. Tell her that even thought Anya was hardly Chatty Kathy, she had no need for anyone to tuck her under their patronizing shoulder. She had no need for Alicia catapulting her in the world of teenage in-cliques, because Anya couldn't give two fucks about them.

Anya knew she didn't fit in. She never had. By the time she'd turned 14 she had started to figure out her limits – this was one of them.

_And you know what, you hold no control over me baby, so don't fool yourself. I only go along with you because you're a convenient friend to have._

Anya could have said those thing. She could have yelled them out loud... but she did not. Maybe she was not that far gone yet. Because even though Anya and Alicia weren't exactly the typical friends, there was something real there. And that tiny little ounce of real friendship did not deserve the destruction Anya felt like raging on to it just because she was having a nervous breakdown at the moment.

Still, even thought much calmer than before, Anya couldn't help gritting her teeth when she spoke.

"If you want me to apologize for being good at what I do, you can forget about it."

"I don't give a fuck about that. What I care about is you making people hate you on purpose. What the fuck did Cleo ever do to you, huh? She was the only girl that actually liked you for god's sake!"

Strange how Anya delighted in hearing that in the past tense.

"Oh, please. Cleo never _liked_ me, she was never my friend. She is nice to me because _you_ are – just like the rest of them." Anya said, meaning every word.

This gave Alicia pause.

"Ok that may be so. But still, tis is not about them right now. Let's make this about you and me shall we. I'm here and I'm trying. Trying _real_ fucking hard to get you, but for these past few months you've been like a different person. But I'm _still_ here, trying to make your social life existent, but you just refuse to cooperate. What's gotten into you?!"

"If arrogance was an obstacle to social life than a great many people would be far worse off than I am." She hissed, standing face to face with the beautiful chocolate-skinned girl.

Alicia groaned. "_Jesus_, would you just say what you want to say Anya? For _once_!"

"I just did. And just an advice: don't pretend to be all martyr-like around me, we both know you're the farthest thing from it. For the record: I don't give a fuck about what those… those _ducks_ think about me. And _how dare they_ talk like that abut Sasha! Diana should consider herself lucky that Sasha keeps letting her in her class with all the bent knees and bad turnouts she performs with."

Alicia was staring at Anya in disbelief as if she wasn't speaking English. "_That's_ what all that was about? _Sasha_?"

Alicia snorted, looking at Anya as if she was out of her mind. As she spoke, her initial anger seemed to have dissipated into something else. "Sasha is one of the greatest ballerinas that ever lived, she doesn't need you defending her."

That strange something in Alicia's tone, that familiarity of it, made Anya avoid eye contact. She didn't want to see what Alicia was thinking at that moment because she knew that she would feel guilty about it. Anya knew that this time, the fault was hers.

She was just too stubborn and too bloody angry to admit it right now.

"I don't expect you to understand." Anya mumbled, turning her back to Alicia. She knew it was the wrongest thing to say, absolutely knew it. And she said it despite of that. Maybe because of it.

Anya could feel Alicia's anger and she was glad for it. For Ali's anger, for Cleo's outrage, for Diana's humiliation. Anya wanted to claw herself above them - they were nothing, they were supposed to be inexistent, insubstantial in the general frame of Anya's life. And she loathed Cleo with a violence that was as foreign to her as this situation. Anya never felt this passionately for anyone – the sheer strength of the feeling frightened her, yet she could not reject it. The feeling was as much a part of her as her limbs.

There was something frightening about looking at the depth of your soul, at the darkest corners you were capable. It made you startle at your own reflection.

_Jealousy… Envy… Vengefulness_

She heard Alicia take a deep breath. That was her '_be patient'_ breathing technique that her fancy Yoga instructor had taught her.

"Anya, just talk to me. You know I'll try to help you with whatever its breaking your balls so badly." Alicia's tone was almost soft, but talking about her shit was _so_ not in Anya's things-to-do list. Not now, not ever. Not even to Alicia. She stayed silent, knowing she was going to regret it as firmly as she knew that it was still the best way to go.

"Oh great, shut me out, why don't you. Cause, you have so many other friends to turn to. Why would you need me?"

The silence between them was sharp enough to draw blood, but neither spoke and she heard Alicia stomp away in a few seconds, muttering '_fuck this'_ through her teeth. They probably would not be seeing each-other anymore today. They didn't have any classes together and given the right amount of motivation Anya could avoid even her own shadow.

It didn't matter anyway…

Anya found herself staring intently at her meticulously-taken-care-of fingernails. Why had this happen? Why did Alicia have to get in the middle of Anya's little meltdown? She just had to stick her noses into anything. Typical Gryffindor behaviour:

'_Oh this is a potentially explosive situation… let's get closer to it!'_

Anya had never been able to make up her mind whether typically, Gryffindors were just control freaks or maybe they simply had a pathological need for it was both. Or maybe Anya had just made the stupidest mistake in pissing Alicia off like that.

God, why couldn't things be simple again? What had happened? What had changed?

Had Anya changed and she hadn't realized it. The thought gave her pause. She certainly _felt_ completely unlike herself. Outburst were _so_ not her thing. She never raised her voice; she never even paid attention when people talked or who they talked about. Anastasia Rain didn't talk down to people, she didn't flaunt, she didn't tease. She had never before said the f-word in public. Anastasia was usually much quieter. Even in the ballet world, the only thing flashy about Anya was her dancing.

She was the best this academy had, she was considered a Mozart of ballet by some… and yet, she never ever acted up to anything or anyone. Speaking up and telling off was her mother's thing, not Anya's. Anya never bothered.

No, today was just a very bizarre day. That was all there was to it…

_Just _stop_ this. Enough with the judgment, with obsessing. Stop thinking and start dancing. _

Anya sighed and rubbed the sole of her shoe in the box of chalk at the corner of the classroom. Dancing, that was what she should be doing. Not arguing, not crying or loving. Not even thinking.

_Dancing!_

That was her pulse her heartbeat, her breathing. The rhythm of her life. It had been proved time and again, that it was the _only_ thing she was good at.


	6. Act 5 - Ways the world stops turning

**Act 5 – The ways the world stops turning**

"_Anything that happens, happens. Anything that, in happening, causes something else to happen, causes something else to happen. Anything that, in happening, causes itself to happen again, happens again. It doesn't necessarily do it in chronological order, though." - _The hitchhikers guide to the galaxy

There are some things in life that you can't help. Things that will happen no matter what you do. They are meant to happen and it's impossible to stop them from happening.

If for example, a child is born into a family that sees life in a certain way, that child is expected to see it in the same way. This is normal, there is nothing wrong or right about it. His first thoughts are not going to be his own, but those of the people around him. It's the way it is for everyone: our first contact with the world happens though out family, and it conditions us, the view of the world we are going to have.

And yet, sometimes we stray. We don't meet expectation, we elude views instilled in all those around us. Sometimes the child disagrees. Sometimes, his eyes see the world in a different way.

Can there ever be a 'why' to that? An explanation? Some reason why this would happen to this child and not his brother, her sister, their cousin? Which rule would have regulated it? What crystal ball or algorithm could have predicted it?

None. Not one. There were no rules, no guidebooks. No real reasons.

Everything that happens, happens. Deal with it.

Sirius Black believed himself to be the proof of that. As he sat astride his bike with only the groaning roar of the engine for company and waited for James to come down, Sirius knew that he had no answers still. To this day, his differences with his family were an anomaly for which he didn't know the '_why-s'_. He had just accepted it as something he could not change, a fact of life. There is no rhyme or reason, no code to break or golden rule.

And when everything gets to be a blur around you and you don't know where you're going, that's when you hit the gas even harder, when you go faster. And from that point on, the curves you take are going to be taken by instinct. That small voice in your head and the balls to follow it are the only thing that matter. The only things you have. Being true to oneself was ultimately the only weapon you have against the chaos of world.

"Prongs, if you take one minute longer I'm leaving you here!"

"Would you calm the bloody hell down! I'm almost at the front door." James' grunt came from his pocket where Sirius kept the two-way-mirror. And wouldn't you know it, in that same instant the front door opened and James came out.

"You take longer getting ready then any girl I've waited on." Sirius said as he passed James a helmet while his friend gave him the middle finger.

"That must be a substantial enough number to offend me." James responded with a smirk.

"Only according to urban legend." Sirius said, suddenly edgy as they both put on their helmets and he put his bike in gear. "And that pisses me the fuck off by the way. Like I'm any more of a slut than you are!"

James laughed heartedly at that. "Yeah, well, not everyone has the ability to stir rumour like you do."

Sirius snorted. "Bollocks."

"… and besides, you're the only bloke I've met that get defensive over it."

"Because it's _bollocks_."

"And because you don't like feeling like you're the butt of the joke." James added.

Sirius gave the bike a sudden jab forward, making James almost fall off, cutting his snicker in half - earning himself a nice string of swearing that would have made a trucker proud and a sound slap in the back of his neck that left his ears prickling.

"That was for objectifying me." Sirius deadpanned even though his neck was bloody sore.

"Whatever you say, man-whore."

Instead of replying, Sirius hit the gas so fast that James had to hold on tight to keep from falling back on his ass. James's laugh resonated in his ears. It was good that he was in such a good mood today, after spending most of last night chasing Avery down every corner of Nocturn Alley. That motherfucker had made a clean work of covering his tail and they'd almost caught him, but not quite.

Next time Sirius saw that fuck-face, he was going to give him a dose of his own medicine. Maybe slap him in a car and make an omelette of him, as Avery had tried to do.

But whatever. Sirius had better plans for the day.

The Grace Kelly Look-alike, who was aptly named Cleo - which suited her sunny personality to a tee - was the one he was going to have lunch with right now. She had invited him and James for a get together with friends and since Sirius had nothing better t do until full moon was near, he'd said yes.

He noticed Cleo's bright blond hair from afar. That had been what had initially made her stand out from everything else around her. As soon as the roar of his engine settled in, Cleo turned his way and waved at him cheerfully, starting to run towards him at full tilt and somehow making it look so cute that he couldn't help a smile.

"Hi. Thought you would stand me up." Cleo said but it was obvious in her confidence that she didn't really think he would have. He winked at her in response.

"Hi James." she said and nodded very discretely towards the Academy's steps where a bunch of girls and boys was sitting.

"I've told Gianni that we would be coming, so he's waiting for us. You'll see, he makes the best pizza in London."

They walked to the Academy's steps and the girls from last night greeted both him and James with smiles and warm hellos. All of them, except Alicia McKenzie who was sitting on the looking the way she always looked: an effortless knockout… and staring at him with knowing smirk on her face that was sure to get on Sirius' nerves.

Sirius had never bothered to find out where that particular antipathy McKenzie held for him came from. He didn't care and wasn't interested enough on the girl herself to find out or make her change her mind. But he did know that she displayed such a keen antipathy only to him: she had a fine relationship with James, was civil enough to Peter and was more than friendly to Remus.

In fact, Sirius recalled with a smirk, she was always _particularly _niceto Remus. Too bad for her that old Moony was as elusive as ever to female charms – and Sirius wasn't above subtly remind her of that every now and then.

Oh, maybe _that_ was why she hated him!

"Well, this here is Gregory, and that one is Maddox. You already know the girls – Mary you haven't met, she wasn't with us last night, but there she is now in all her snarky glory. Chat yourselves up while I get my bag – I'll be just a second." Cleo said as she smacked a kiss on Sirius's cheek. He watched her as she swiftly made her way through the crowd.

"Wow, Sirius Black out in daylight… Who died?" Alicia pointed out, drawing Sirius's attention back to her. Her humour was as sour as ever.

"Nobody yet, buts it's only one o'clock." Sirius replied in kind and Alicia's smile widened. But as always there was something in it that wasn't entirely friendly. Something a bit suspicious, cat-that-got-the-mild kind of smile.

"So James, have you made up your mind about the Harpies offer yet?" She asked, turning to James and interrupting the conversation that had started up between him and Lola.

"Not really. But I know I want to finish school first. If they want me so badly they'll have to wait until I've finished my education." James replied offhandedly.

"What are the Harpies?" Lola asked, a bit confused.

"Just a local football team up north that has scouted me." James lied fluently. He was used to make these kinds of parallels, seeing that he and Sirius spent a lot of time in the muggle world during their summers. And Sirius knew that the best lies are those that keep closest to the truth.

"But you don't want to go?" Lola asked, still confused as to why would James reject such an opportunity.

"I want to, sure, but I'm one year short of finishing school, so why drop out in the end?" James replied with a shrug.

Sirius couldn't help a smirk. It didn't matter what Prongs told everybody, because Sirius was sure that his education came second to another reason, who seemed to be a little more important: a redhead reason with striking green eyes and a lethal temper. Sirius couldn't even wrap his head around the lengths and depths of his friend's obsession. It was strange how someone he knew so well could have pockets of behaviour that completely escaped Sirius' understanding.

"So... shall we?" Cleo said smiling as she fitted herself by his side, her breath a little short. "The restaurant is just around the corner."

"Hey princess, aren't you forgetting someone." One of the girls – the one with the curly brown hair - said as she checked out her nails with what looked a lot like a devilish smile on her face.

Cleo sighed, obviously annoyed.

Cleo rolled her wide blue eyes. "What Mary?"

"You didn't invite Anya this time did you? Talk about selective friendship." This Mary characters pointed out, not without a hint of mock in her tone. Sirius noticed that McKenzie looked away, as if he was pretending not to hear the conversation.

"I'm afraid Anya's ego wouldn't fit in Gianni's little place." Cleo replied, causing little chuckles from those around her.

"Oh well, we'll just have to make do without her then." Mary said flippantly.

Cleo rolled her eyes. "Yes, the loss is incapacitating me. Can we move on?"

"Just pointing out the obvious." Mary said with a shrug but the little smile she was displaying made Sirius curious as to what she was _really _going on about. he hated the way girls were so passive aggressive. Wanna say something, then fucking say it, don't piss around it!

"Who's this Anya again?" He asked Cleo, a little irritated, but managing to sound as dethatched as always.

"Just some girl we used to be friends with." Cleo replied vaguely, obviously trying to drop the topic. Sirius didn't particularly like the way the blonde emphasized the '_used to'_ in that sentence. To him, the fact that she could so easily dismiss someone who she used to call a friend meant that she either had never had a real friend, or that she and him had a very different conceptions of friendship.

And he didn't miss the cold stare that McKenzie send Cleo's way either.

Mary chuckled. "Oh, its '_used to'_ now, is it? What, dropping her out of the club because she was a bit too honest with you?"

Sirius looked at this Mary again. Even though she didn't speak in what could be considered a polite manner – in fact the girl looked like she was enjoying getting on Cleo's nerves – but she didn't look like she was lying either. Probably because nobody contradicted her.

"Oh please. The girl's got some deep issues, alright. Can we just go?" Diana said and she sounded much angrier that Cleo had.

Ok, so obviously this Anya chick wasn't really popular among these girls. But Alicia still was resolutely _not_ joining the conversation and that was enough to make Sirius interested, because one of the things that most irritated him about McKenzie was that she always had something to say about everything.

_Besides…_

"Everyone's got issues." Sirius said a bit more strongly than he meant, because only for a split second, number 12 Grimauld place was all he could think about.

"Why not invite her as well?" Sirius proposed, looking at Cleo, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

"Well…"

"Ah, but she can't do that now you see, because Cleo purposely invited us all when Anya was close enough to hear that she _wasn't_ being invited." Mary said, now looking like she was really getting a kick out of the awkwardness of the situation. Personally he couldn't get where the punch line was and he wasn't sure he liked Mary either. She reminded him a little too much of Marlene McKinnon - always telling the truth in the worst ways.

He _hated_ Marlene McKinnon.

"Not to mention that Blondie and miss D. over there have been oh-so-subtly laughing their arses off at Anya's expense all day long. Inviting her to lunch would be a bit incoherent at this point, don't you think?" Mary pointed out with a smirk that tasted more like revenge than just plain teasing. She was enjoying this, Sirius realized, and it had nothing to do with her being insensitive. Maybe she was friends with this Anya…

"Will you shut up Mary?" Alicia hissed, now angry, but this Mary chick didn't look fazed in the slightest. Which admittedly gave her some credit 'cause McKenzie could be intimidating to other girls when she wanted to be.

"No, I don't think I will." Mary said with the kind of calm that spoke volumes about her defiance.

Ok, this was way more passive aggressiveness than Sirius could take…

"What's the big deal?! _I_'ll invite her, save everyone the cold sweat. Where is she?" Sirius stated, making Cleo do a double take.

"You _what_?!"

"She's the one sitting by the east columns, the girl with black hair and bandaged elbows." Mary provided all the needed information despite Cleo's protest. But the last part, that was the one that caught Sirius' attention.

_Bandaged elbows huh?_

He looked at McKenzie for confirmation but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

So it _was_ her! It was funny how when you start one regular day never knowing who you're going to meet…What had she said her name was? Anastasia something… Sirius smirked. His Guardian Angel alright. This was going to be fun.

He dogged Cleo's protests with a quick '_be right back'_ and climbed the stairs two by two. Anya or Anastasia, whatever her name was, he was not going to waste the chance to talk to her today, even if only to annoy her a little. She had been so very easily annoyed last night. But maybe that had been because she had been hurt, scared and bleeding.

Sirius tried to keep the wince to himself. He should have been more careful and not thrown her to the ground like that, with no warning, but he hadn't exactly had the time to request politely. And one had to give the girl a little respect, especially for the way she had straightened her spine and almost bit his head off the second he had suggested she might be somehow weak.

Of course, the fact that she got so defensive over it meant that she had a secret fear of being considered weak, but that was no matter. She's still snapped at him like a terrier.

He recognized her immediately. Because of the bandages of course, but also because it was easy to pry her apart from the crowd. She had her back to him and was as inconspicuous as any wallflower in her faded-grey baggy sweatpants, the dark brown of her hair contrasting starkly with the pristine white T-shirt she was wearing, making it easy to tell her apart from everyone else because she seemed like a black and white spot in the colorful display of people swarming around her.

Between the low-hanging sweats and the loosely fitting - and short - Tshirt, a strip of a good three inches of skin of her lower back showed. The graceful arch of her spine being exposed so casually made him wonder, for no logical reason at all, what her bellybutton looked like. The thought seemed pervasive for some reason, but still particularly ridiculous, especially because of the way it had just popped into his head like that, without rationale. Almost as instinctual as the curiosity he had regarding that strip of skin, of what would it feel like under his hands, if it would really be as soft as it looked…

Sirius smirked, internally laughing at himself. It was fun to be reminded sometimes that despite all the bullshit in his life, he was still an 18 year old boy.

He forgot that more often than not.

More often than not, it didn't feel that way…

"Hello." Sirius said simply. For all the reaction she gave, he might as well be speaking to a wall. That is when he noticed she was humming something. It sounded like she was … counting? And she was doing it in some kind of rhythm.

_Weird_...

Sirius mentally shrugged. He'd seen plenty of weirder.

"Hellooo! Anyone in there!" he put a hand over her shoulder, but at the mere contact she turned around fast as if he had touched her with a hot poker.

That was when he saw the headphones and understood why she hadn't heard him. What he didn't understand though was why she stared at him as if he had two heads and took a step back from him, effectively smacking the back of her head against one the nearest columns in her hurry to put the Atlantic between them.

She hissed and rubbed her head with both her hands. The scene was so funny that despite his not wanting to embarrass her, he couldn't help a chuckle that escaped. Well, at least he managed not to outright laugh in her face – that had to count for something.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." he said, trying to contain his laugh and sound like he meant his apology.

She looked at him, embarrassed and annoyed.

Now in the daylight, he could see her better. Her hair looked just as dark as it did by night, but the sun showed reflections of all kinds of dark brown and mahogany, not plain black. It was straight and fell a little past her shoulder-blades in soft layers. She was pale, almost as if she didn't see the sun much, very thin – her hipbones jutted out a little in a way he found not attractive at all - and as silent as she was still. In fact she was looking at him as if she was appraising him with those huge round eyes of hers that kinda reminded him of a bad tempered toad – not even the thick fringe over her eyes could hide her annoyance.

Her nose was small and pointy, her lips on the thin side, her face round like a moon; but the arch of her jaw was graceful, almost delicate. Actually, she was so slim that everything about her seemed delicate. Birdlike almost. The collarbones that the neckline of her T-shirt allowed to see seemed so breakable that he might snap them accidentally.

Hard to believe that this was the same girl that had practically dragged him out of a bewitched car last night, probably saving his neck in the process.

Sirius put on his most cheeky smirk and watched her gather her composure as if it was a blanket around her. She straightened her shoulders and her back, facing him almost at eye level. She was tall, maybe 5'7 or 5'8.

"Fancy seen you again huh."

She didn't so much as move a muscle. "Yeah, fancy."

"How are your elbows?"

"They're fine. Thank you."

So, she was not a big talker then.

"Need some ice for the head?" He teased. Her eyes flashed.

"I'll live. Are you lost?"

He had to smile at that. "Nope. So you're a ballerina and a witch huh? What's that like?"

A beat passed.

"Tiring."

Damn, the girl was good. She hadn't even blinked once. It was kinda captivating. His smile became intrigued, his curiosity piqued.

"You don't like me." He stated. "You don't know me, but you don't like me."

Her eyes sharpened. "I know you."

"Yeah, we met last night. And as I recall, besides doing me the grad favor of dragging me out of that car, you weren't very partial to me last night either."

This time he saw her roll her eyes and the gesture spoke more of her irritation than any snarky comments she would have voices.

"You do realize that we follow the same school right?" She asked suddenly, her voice smooth, but strained at the same time. Now it was his turn to be baffled.

"We do? You go to Hogwarts?"

"I am a witch, I live in England - the dots are not so hard to connect Black. I thought you were supposed to be smart, but apparently that is just one more rumour not to believe about you."

Well, he wanted to say, there are a lot of homeschooled kids in England, especially those that want to pick careers that have nothing to do with magic – like ballet for instance - but he didn't. This time he wanted to lay on the charm and not on the irritation.

"You've heard rumours about me?"

"Never of the nice kind, I assure you." She deadpanned as she sat down on the border of the railing and took a swing out of her water bottle. "Apparently you ate a living duck once."

This time he laughed hard. He'd heard that one. Prongs had had a filled day with jokes about it.

"Oh yeah, everything but the beak and feet." And this time his cheekiness earned him a twitch of her lips. That was almost a smile. So, she was human after all!

Sirius took a step closer and leaned against the railing, right in front of her. "This is weirder than I expected. You go to Hogwarts, huh. How come I don't know you?"

"That sounds like something between you and your god, Black."

Sirius snorted. She had a sense of humour alright, but on the dark side. He liked that. "I was thinking out loud actually."

She hummed. "First signs of lunacy, take care."

And she wouldn't budge an inch. Stubborn.

"So I'm told." He said slowly.

This girl was aloof and stinging like a bee, but there was a layer of edginess under that thin skin that clashed with her so obvious confidence and nonchalance. It was the way she'd looked at him, like a deer caught in the headlights, the way she moved around him: she manoeuvred herself carefully enough to be just a little farther away from his range. It was the fact that she had a wicked sarcasm and a penchant for glaring that made him curious. How as it possible that he had no recollection of her from Hogwarts? Who was this girl?

She had gotten up and grabbed her sports bag. "I'm assuming that since you're still standing there staring at me, which is rude by the way, …"

"I don't mind." He interrupted, only making her narrow her eyes at him some more.

"…then you have something else you wanna say to me. Would I be correct?"

His lips twitched. "You wouldn't be incorrect."

"Then spit it out, will you, I have classes to go to."

Her impatience only made him smile wider. Why did this girl dislike him this intensely? And if this was the case, why had she jumped to help him out last night?

Such a little bundle of contradictions…

"You gotta eat though, am I right?"

"I eat just fine, that's what the cafeteria is for. Is there going to be a point to this in the near future?"

He had no idea why her rudeness didn't quite manage to irritate him, to make him snap at her in kind. That was new for him: Sirius didn't take any bullshit from anyone… but this time it was different. Probably because she was snarky, but she lacked the malice, the mean intent. It was just banter really, and that as a game to him, one he liked playing. And he had a sneaking suspicion that so did she.

"I'm having lunch with a bunch of your friends. Care to join us?"

For the first time, he'd left her quite speechless. She just stared at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. I was told you had a little misunderstanding…"

"No misunderstanding. Thanks for the offer Black, but I'll pass." Then that little twitch at the corner of her lips turned into an almost smirk. Her face looked a lot more interesting with that expression on. "We'll have to do the whole 'bonding-after-a-traumatic-experience' thing some other time."

Sirius held back a chuckle, but his eyes danced with amusement. "Oh sure. And we'll hold hands and skip afterwards."

He didn't miss the fact that she smiled this time, even though the curtain of her hair almost covered it.

"Whatever. Enjoy your lunch Black."

He watched her disappear inside the hall with the rest of the students that were getting back to their classes and then turned back down the steps with a silly smirk on his face that he hadn't even noticed he was wearing.

Cleo was pissed. "You sure took your sweet time." She said coldly.

"I tried my best persuasion skill, but she wouldn't bulge. Apparently she's not so fond you all."

Both McKenzie's eyebrows made for her hairline. "She said that?" The disbelief in her tone was acidic and clear as daylight.

"No, but that was my impression. So, shall we, I'm starving."

oOoOo

"Oh my god, I've eaten so much that I think I'm going to puke... or take up at least three hours of running to burn all those calories." Lola said as she held on to her ever-flat stomach. James who was walking by her side smiled at her comment.

"Oh please, you barely ate half of your pizza. I had to help you with the rest." James said as he passed her the water bottle, which she took with a grateful smile.

"Yeah, but I don't usually eat stuff like that. I'm not allowed to."

"It's Friday Lola, you can stuff yourself if you want to." Cleo said offhandedly.

All their previous company had somehow disappeared and by now it was just the four of them. But, again just as Cleo had predicted, Lola and James were comfortable enough with each other not to be bothered by it. Interesting how girls tended to know things like that.

"Today being a Friday has something to do with what you can eat?" James asked, looking a bit confused at Lola, who couldn't help a small smile.

"Well, we're kind of on a rigid diet. And there're this one day a week, usually Fridays or Saturday, when we can eat all we want." Lola explained cheerfully.

"Basically, our dear Lola has been starving since she was like, ten years old or something. But not me! I can eat anything I like as long as my keep my weight in check. Those who do classic ballet are the borderline-anorexic ones." Cleo said, making a face at Lola, who reacted instantly.

"That's _so_ not true! We eat healthily! How else would we be able to dance non-stop 7 hours a day huh?"

"Yeah, but you eat gooey stuff, like barely boiled eggs and yucky-looking vegetables. Not to mention that thing Sasha makes you drink, what _is _that?" Cleo shivered theatrically.

"It's a protein juice, keeps us strong but without weighting too much on the stomach… But it tastes _awful_. The only way to drink it is bottom's up, so that you don't have to feel the taste longer than you have to." She added making James chuckle.

Sirius looked at them, at the easy smile on his friends face, at his relaxed demeanour. He was about to suggest to Cleo leaving the lovebirds alone and whisk her away someplace, when he saw something that most definitely should not have been there.

By '_there'_ meaning in broad daylight, in the middle of muggle London.

Sirius stared at the corner between the main road and an alley, frozen, every muscle constricted to the point of pain. He couldn't believe his eyeballs! It was impossible. It couldn't be.

_Please... it can't be..._

"Sirius?" Cleo asked, apparently confused and a little concerned by his sudden rigidness.

"Girls, I'm sorry but we gotta go. It's urgent and I just remembered." Sirius said sternly, giving Prongs a meaningful look. By the way his friend's eyes sobered up in an instant, Sirius knew that he had gotten the gist of the conversation.

"But..."

Sirius interrupted Cleo with e quick and rather stiff kiss on her lips. "I'll make it up to you, promise, but now I _really_ have to go."

"We'll be by tomorrow, we can go out again." He continued but he was just spouting words off, not caring if they made an effect or not. Cleo said something he didn't hear. In that moment, he really didn't care whether he saw those to girls ever again.

Sirius almost shot off the sidewalk as soon as he felt that James was holding on tightly enough not to fall. The way his friend was driving made James uncomfortable.

"What is it?" James yelled as they sped through the second-hand alleys.

"I just saw Regulus." Sirius said. His voice was unsteady. And even though Sirius knew that he really didn't need to add more, he spoke anyway.

"He was with Bellatrix and Mallfoy. They apparated in broad daylight, can you believe their nerve!" Sirius said through gritted teeth. By now James had realized that they were following them. What he didn't know was _where_ they were following them to.

"Alright. How do you know where they were going?"

It took a few minutes for Sirius to answer. Fact was that he _didn't_ know. How could he know, he had only seen them apparate and then disapparate again. By accounts of all logic he _couldn't_ know where they would be.

But logic had nothing to do with this. Because this exact scenario, with his little snooty brother walking off somewhere with one of his deranged cousins was his worst fear come to life – _that's _how he knew. He saw it unfold before his eyes whenever he thought of Regulus and the fact that he had left him behind.

So how did Sirius know where to go? Was it because he had nightmares about it? Or because the only reason he had postponed his escaping from his wretched family was that a little boy who now hated him... A brother he loved was the only thing that kept Sirius tied to his past. And he didn't seem to be able to let go of it.

He could not.

Sirius didn't bother concentrating on anything except for the road. He even avoided thinking too much about what he would find once they got to their destination. But had he been coherent, he would have been sorry that he robbed James of a really nice opportunity to meet someone interesting; he would have noticed the way Cleo looked so angry and Lola so very disappointed.

But even if he had been paying attention to what was going on around him, Sirius wouldn't have noticed the eyes that followed him from one of the many windows of the Ballet Academy. Not even then would he be able to distinguish the face of the unknown girl that had been staring at him from behind the glass. Her hand pressed against the cool glass surface would have been only an indistinguishable raindrop in the middle of a storm.

So he would have missed the curiosity stamped on her face and the way her eyes followed him as he disappeared behind the corner, leaving behind himself only the echo of his bike's engine.


	7. Act 6 - Brothers

**Act 6 - Brothers**

"_Our siblings_. _They resemble just enough to make all the differences confusing, and no matter what we choose to make of this, we are cast in relation to them our whole lives long_." _Susan Merrell_

"_We are not only our brother's keeper. In countless large and small ways, We are our brother's maker." -Bonaro Overstreet_

Sirius had never been interested in knowing the places where his cousins liked to gather. He had never cared. He had been invited to plenty of their soirée-s, sure. He _had _to be invited to any social occasion of the pureblood elite - he was a Black after all and in the eyes of people who cared, that made him important. But whenever it had been up to him, he had always chosen to have more interesting things to do.

Ever since he was nine years old he had known that there was something entirely strange about the way people around him saw the world. He found himself in disagreement with his cousins even about the smallest things. He had dozens of relatives and to him, they were just different versions of bad behavior, something to avoid.

So whenever there was an occasions for _'people his age to socialize' _as his mother usually put it, Sirius downright refused to mingle. But, as he walked through the shadowy and smelly corners of Nocturn Alley, Sirius wished that he knew more about the places where his Death Eater cousins got together. If Regulus was not where Sirius hoped he was, then he would be lost… because other than this, Sirius had no idea where to look for his brother. He was going on instinct and desperation more than on logic.

But Sirius knew that he had to do something. He couldn't very well sit and do nothing while his brother took leisurely strolls with two Death Eaters, could he?

If only Sirius could talk to him.

He'd been trying to for months, but Regulus seemed to never be alone. Either their parents were making sure that Sirius stayed away from their younger and still unpolluted son… or Reg was going out of his way never to be alone so that Sirius may never get to him. The thought of his younger brother avoiding him on purpose almost send Sirius in a rage.

Sirius knew his brother as well as he knew himself. Knew the heart that beat in that chest and the way that curious mind turned. Regulus was pure still, but he could be tainted by anything... or anyone. Sirius knew that if he didn't do something to fix the situation now, there would be no second chances.

The roads that they, as brothers, had taken would lead them in opposite directions and if they both followed through with their choices, they would end up in different sides of the battlefield for sure. And by then it would be too late...

Sirius feared this would be the case. He feared his brother's hard-headedness, because he knew that Regulus was just like him in that direction. He had to snatch his brother back _now_! Now, before Regulus was too far gone, before their claws had sunk in too deep…

Sirius stopped just before he turned one particular corner. He felt that James was right behind him. They'd made a plan on the way. A few plans actually. Sirius didn't want to start a duel, but they had to make some kind of diversion to get to Regulus. The idea of dueling Bellatrix with Regulus nearby put Sirius on edge. He knew better than to assume Bellatrix incapable of using Regulus as a shield, or even worse. That bitch was capable of anything and Sirius wasn't stupid enough to underestimate that.

And Regulus himself was still a trick puzzle. Sirius knew in his heart that Regulus was not capable of firing a single spell against his brother... at least not yet. Regulus was angry, hurt and probably felt abandoned, but what boiled in Regulus' guts was not hate. Sirius knew hate back and forth, he could practically smell it on someone and Regulus was not like that. Even if a duel ensued, Sirius knew that his brother would hesitate to hurt him - and that would get him in trouble with the rest of their family.

Bellatrix's vocabulary didn't include hesitation and Voldemort's club was not one you could simply withdraw your membership request.

"Any idea what they are doing at Burkins'?" James asked under his breath as he hid in the shadows behind Sirius.

"No."

"We need to prepare if we're…"

But James was stopped by Sirius's hand on his arm. Sirius silently pointed east and James saw them as well. Bellatrix was talking to Regulus, who seemed to be listening intently. But Sirius knew the look on that face. Whatever Bella was saying, Regulus wasn't liking it, even though he kept nodding. They were joined by Malfoy a moment afterwards.

The three of them started to walk off and Sirius felt his heart double up its pace.

"Padfoot…"

"You need to go." Sirius said hastily, looking at his friend. Off James's confused and almost hurt look, he knew that he had to explain his thoughts more. "_Go_, get to the bike and go home. I'll grab Regulus and Apparate there."

But, of course, judging by the look on James' face, he was going nowhere.

"You still have the trace on!" Sirius hissed.

James snorted. "That never stopped me before!"

"Your father won't be able to cover for you forever…" But he didn't get the chance to finish that because the trio was getting too close.

Seething, Sirius got ready to jump in. He'd have to be quick about it… and fight James some other time, because right now, he honestly couldn't deny that he needed his friend at his side - and James knew that. If their hit-and-run plan went wrong, then they'd have to fight their way out.

Malfoy wasn't a problem, but Bellatrix… she would be a bitch as always.

"I'll distract them, you grab Regulus." James's whisper was so low it mixed with the breeze, but Sirius heard him. He nodded, coiling his muscles and getting ready.

Another couple of steps…

James aimed his wand carefully and concentrated on performing the spell nonverbally. The red flash that exploded from his wand hit Malfoy square in the chest. He fell like a sack of potatoes.

"Who goes there?" Regulus bellowed, his wand already out and Sirius couldn't help but get angry at his brother. _This_ was the way he was planning on joining Death Eater ranks? He would be dead within a week, the _goodamned fool_!

Bellatrix on the other hand had already spouted off three spells in the James' general direction, but Sirius had managed to get past them, with James covering for him. James wasn't even trying to cover really, he was facing Bellatrix as if this was a casual meeting on the streets… in the meantime giving Sirius a better chance to sneak closer to his brother.

"Hello there, Bella. How are you this evening?" James said calmly as he stepped out of the alley, his wand ready at his side.

"Look at what we have here." Bellatrix said sweetly, not at all perturbed by the fact that Malfoy was on the ground and she was facing the one who put him there. "I fare very well, thank you. As you can see, I am in company."

Her tone was just as flippant as James's, but she had already fired a violet spell at him, without even bothering to say the words out loud. Wordless magic had always been easy for Bellatrix, but this time she was equally matched. James had deflected her spell silently as well, as if this was a competition. Regulus tried to raise his wand, but Bellatrix stopped him. She didn't give the impression of being troubled at all, in fact she seemed quite amused. This was a game to her.

"You stunned my cousin. That was rude of you."

James shrugged. "Yeah, sorry about that. Always hated his hair, you know."

She waved her wand in the air as she spoke and a rope of fire came out, trying to wrap around James just as he twisted his wand into some intricate way. Moments before the fiery rope wrapped around him, James cloaked himself in a shield of water. With another a move of his wand the bubble exploded, extinguishing the fire and flooding half the alley, water-bullets snapping in Bellatrix's direction. But Bellatrix had shielded herself and even though James' spell was so strong that those drops of high-speed water made holes in the walls around them, they broke against Bella's shield.

James send attack after attack at Bella. All of which she ducked and fired back.

"So, to what do I own the pleasure of such fine company Potter?" She hollered as she dodged a particularly well-aimed hex. She had some hair out of place, but was otherwise unscathed. James on the other hand looked as if he was having quite good fun, even though he was so concentrated that his wand sparkled even when he was staying put.

"I just missed our conversations." He said casually.

Bellatrix laughed manically, but now there was a different glint to her eyes.

The duel turned into a sort of toxic dance of flashes and blows, all unravelling much too quickly and rising way too fast. In just a couple of minutes the conflict had escalated to the point where the duellists were blowing up pieces of walls from buildings around them. Bella's dress was burned on more than one corner and James's left arm was bleeding.

But less than 3 minutes were enough for Sirius to sneak around the duel without being seen (or shot down by blind spells – which almost happened a couple of times) get right behind his brother, stun him, catch him before he fell and shoot blue sparks up with his wand – their signal.

James noticed the sparks, even thought that slip of attention almost cost Prongs his left ear.

"Bella, you've been a pain in the ass, as usual." James said as he looked behind her to Sirius to confirm and in a whip of his wand he was gone.

Too late did Bella follow his look, and she caught just a glimpse of Sirius and Regulus, one second before they disappeared. The stunning spell she threw a them blew the tiles off the wall against which Sirius had been leaning.

Her scream of frustration echoed off the empty street.

But her dear cousin was a fool if he thought that simply because he had taken Regulus for now, he would get to keep him. Regulus Black was too deep into their world, too dutiful a son and devoted to their blood's common goals to follow the path of his brother.

Regulus would come back to her, and to the Dark Lord. Bellatrix knew that as well as she knew herself.

oOoOo

Sirius landed right on the Potters back garden, the feel of his brother's weight against his side a relief. James was already there. As soon as their eyes met, as smile started to form on James's face and Sirius could feel that the same was happening to him. Soon it turned into a grin and the next moment they were laughing.

"Your dad is going to skin you alive mate." Sirius said as he calmed a bit.

"Nah, he won't. Besides, Miss Bones at the ministry just loves me. She says I'm _such_ a sweet boy." James imitated the elderly woman's voice so well that another bubble of laughter swelled in him. Adrenaline was still flying high in his system and he was aware of that.

James laid out on the ground, and breathed in a deep one. "Man, that was the best fun I've had since last week." Sirius looked at his friend and couldn't help a smirk. Trust James to find duelling someone as demented as Bellatrix funny.

"To each their own mate." Sirius said and picked up his wand to bring his brother back to consciousness. He didn't know what they were going to say to each other, but this conversation had been put off for too long already. It had been almost a year since they had spoken as brothers.

"I'm going inside. See you afterwards." Sirius only nodded in response as James got up and left.

Sirius looked to his side, at Regulus' dirt-mingled face. It was uncanny how much the two of them looked like each other. It was not about likeness of features, not really. They had the same air, the same shadow. From afar it was no wonder people sometimes confused them.

Gently, Sirius performed the spell and waited for Regulus to open his eyes, but not before he had the forethought to take away Regulus's wand from him. He may love his brother very much, but he knew what was in that head of his too well to leave anything to chance.

Sirius wasn't afraid that his brother would hurt him. It was just that the idea of Regulus raising his wand meaning to harm him, or with the intent of protecting himself from someone he no longer considered family was… well, Sirius simply didn't want to give his brother a chance to do that.

He was essentially spearing himself the pain of having to watch it.

Regulus groaned and rolled to his side, right before he opened his eyes. He took in a couple of ragged breaths and realized where he was and with who. Then his hand went to his side, as if he was looking for his wand. Sirius hadn't thought that seeing him do that would hurt just as much as having his brothers wand actually pointed at his throat.

Regulus stared up at his brother coldly. "Well, isn't this a happy reunion." And when Sirius didn't say a word, Regulus went on, even more indifferently. "What am I doing here?"

Sirius had known that this would have been difficult. He had anticipated a cold reaction, even insults, derision, anger. He had expected to be yelled at, a fight. He had thought himself prepared.

Which was why the hot anger coiling inside him so fast surprised him.

Sirius hadn't thought he would lose his patience so soon, but after all that he went through to get the brat here, after that heart attack he had almost suffered when he'd seen him with two known Death Eaters… he hadn't known what he had expected, but it had been surely more than the tone Regulus was taking with him now!

"I wanted to talk to you." Sirius said as calmly as he could.

Now they were both standing and Sirius couldn't help but to notice that despite how much Regulus had grown, he was still a couple of inches shorter than himself. And looking leaner than when Sirius had last seen him. Regulus' face looked tired and there were bags under is grey eyes that were so much like his own.

Regulus scoffed, "Oh, _now_ you want to talk to me?"

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you, so maybe you should shut your piehole and _listen_!"

"No, I don't think I will." Regulus snapped, catching Sirius by surprise with his tone and the fact that he took one step closer.

"You have no more hold over me, so if you think you can order me around, think again… _bloodtraidor_." Regulus spat the word at him, and for a moment all Sirius could do was stare at the person in front of him and try to find some semblance of his brother in what his was seeing.

Abruptly, Rugulus turned on his heels and started to walk away. That was when Sirius literally saw red. He threw his and Regulus's wand on the ground and with a few strides went over to his brother, grabbed him from the back of his jacket and hurled him backwards.

"Where do you think you're going? _Look, at me_!"

But Regulus was now struggling and ended up taking off his jacked altogether to escape Sirius' iron grip. Regulus turned and the second he did Sirius couldn't miss the fact that he had his hands balled in fists. So the swing that came for his jaw was no surprise and easily dodged.

Finally, they were in familiar territory.

In a fast move, Sirius grabbed his brothers wrist, pulled him towards himself and then, using Regulus' momentum against him, Sirius pushed him hard, making Regulus fight to keep balance. It was a move designed to irritate your opponent, not to cause an damage.

Sirius jumped around as if in a ring, his firsts up, ready to keep going.

"Come on. "

"Fuck you, I'm leaving."

"No you're not. You're _not_ leaving." And Sirius was on him, pushing him, slapping, spurring him on, trying to make Regulus angry enough to let loose.

"You know you want to kick my ass so _come on_." Sirius hissed just as Regulus charged at him like a bull.

Then it was one shot after the other, blows that Sirius stopped with his forearms or took in the ribs. He defended himself, kept his fists up because he knew that at the first chance, Regulus would go for the head. Sirius didn't give him that chance but he let his brother take his time.

He dodged the knee that came up to hit him and nailed Regulus on the stomach with his left. Regulus gritted his teeth but the only response was a punch to the liver. Which gave Sirius the opportunity to deliver one right on Regulus' mouth. It wasn't too hard, but it was hard enough to bust a lip.

They went at each other harder than ever. Because this wasn't the usual match, like the many others that they had had before. This was something else entirely and neither could name it. They wanted to hurt each other, wanted to take out their anger on the one they believed had hurt them the most…

Regulus was getting more and more aggressive and Sirius saw in the frantic pace of his brothers blows the sign that Regulus was running out of energy. Right before his strength left him, Regulus was the most vicious. So Sirius took his chance.

He grabbed his brother by the middle and tackled him on the ground.

Regulus felt the air leave his lungs in a rush. He felt his arm being pulled and himself being turned face down in the grass, one hand holding his head down, the other twisting his arm, and a knee on his back keeping him where he was. He couldn't move an inch so he screamed his lungs out in anger.

"Stop it! Shut up, _shut up_!" Sirius yelled, right at his ear.

"_Get off me_! Get the fuck off me you sick fuck." Regulus literally felt his yells scrap the back of his throat, he was screaming that savagely.

"Be quiet!"

"I hate you, do you hear me!"

"Shut up!"

"_I hate you_!"

"I'm sorry! Ok? I'm _sorry_!"

There was a shattering moment of silence, filled with their loud ragged breaths that scraped their sore throats like tiny needles.

And then a sob broke through and then another.

Regulus was trying to quiet them, but his throat was too raw from too much screaming and he was too tired from the fighting. His entire body was aching and his head was about to explode. The tears down his face burned. He stopped struggling to get free and Sirius eased his grip on his brother, eventually letting go completely.

He'd been practically sitting on Regulus's back, holding him down, but now that he knew Regulus wouldn't try to run away, Sirius collapsed on the ground next to him.

Regulus was facing in the other direction and all Sirius could see was the back of his brother's head, and the way he had curled his shoulders in, trying to keep his shudders and sobs down to himself. Sirius reached out but as soon as he put his hand on Regulus' shoulder, his brother jerked away, as if he'd been burned.

So Sirius grabbed Regulus by the lapels of his shirt and made him turn around so that they could be face to face. Regulus struggled, but not for long. His face was covered in dirt and there was blood coming off his busted lip.

"Look at me." Sirius shook him a little, trying to get through all that he was feeling at that moment. "I am sorry, do you hear? I am sorry I left…"

Regulus shook his head imperceptibly and Sirius couldn't read what was in his brothers eyes, but it definitely was not forgiveness.

"_So what_ if you're _sorry_? That didn't stop you!"

"I left because I had no choice!" The outrage in Sirius's tone was almost matched by the anger in Regulus's face

"Yes you did! You had a choice. You _always_ had a choice." And by now they were both standing, even thought the dynamics between them was different from that of 15 minutes ago.

"You _chose_ to ignore our parents, you _chose_ to rebuke our cousins, you _chose_ to think that your opinions were better than anyone else's. You chose to _refuse to listen_."

Sirius couldn't believe his ears. "Because it was the right thing to do!"

"How do _you_ know that? Who are you to tell me the difference between right or wrong, to give me advice when you never accept any?"

"Leave the philosophical bullshit for another time Reg. The facts are simple and contrary to what you might believe or what Bellatrix might tell you, there _is_ a right and a wrong. And just because you haven't made the wrong choice yet, doesn't mean you're on the right path."

Regulus made an exasperated noise. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"What they tell you is _not_ the truth Regulus. Running around with Death Eaters is a mistake. When people start _dying _before your eyes, you're going to start feeling the weight of your choices." Sirius saw the way his brother was taken aback by what he had said. It was clear that Regulus hadn't been told of the full story of what being a Death Eater entailed. He also saw disbelief in his brothers eyes.

Regulus shook his head. "There will be no deaths. He is not seeking to murder, he…"

"Oh come off it Regulus, _wake up_. He already _is_ a murderer. What do you think he'll do, ask muggleborns to peacefully turn in their wands and everyone will just do it? There is going to be a _war_, and it's going to be soon. People are already disappearing, muggles and muggleborns are turning up dead all over the country."

Regulus's breath accelerated as he looked at his brother in disbelief. For the first time, Sirius felt hope.

"There is going to be no war. But even if there is… then so be it. I'm willing to fight for what I believe in. A vision requires sacrifice."

"_Whose_ sacrifice? Yours? Mine?" Sirius practically roared. "You really think that the blood of people you don't know is worth any less than the blood of those you do?" Sirius had thought this would have been easier, but they already had their hooks in Regulus so much deeper than he had expected.

"What do _you_ believe in Regulus? In what Bellatrix and Malfoy _tell_ you to? In what our parents tell you? The world that our parents would have us live in is a _lie _Reg. There is no '_us'_ and '_them'_…"

"Do _not_ talk about them!" Regulus pushed at Sirius's chest, all of the sudden furious and for the second time, tears were shining in his eyes again, but this time they didn't fall.

"You don't get to talk about our parents."

The silent moment stretched as Sirius struggled to comprehend this sudden outburst and Regulus built up another wave of anger, because he could see now that Sirius didn't understand him at all. That his brother still couldn't fathom why all of this between them was happening. That he _still_ didn't care…

"Do you really think that I care what Bellatrix mouths off or what that our cousins are up to?" Regulus was grinding his teeth as he spoke and for once Sirius was completely lost.

"I do not, _brother_. Half of them are wild and the other half of dimwitted. I see them for what they are. Don't you _dare_ think me a pawn in their game."

Sirius was stunned. He felt now impossibly close to his brother and unbearable cut off from him at the same time.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" he asked in a whisper, bewildered.

The sincerity with which Sirius asked that almost had Regulus want to punch the lights out of his brother all over again. Because it was clear to Regulus now that Sirius would never care about the things Regulus found important.

He would never care about their father or their mother - their heartbreak meant nothing to him. And if in the past Regulus had thought that maybe he had had his brothers love, now he was starting to doubt that too. In leaving their house Sirius had completely abandoned the whole universe that those walls encompassed, and that meant he had abandoned Regulus too. He knew in that moment that Sirius would never love him for who he really was, that his brother would always try to change him, to make him a version of himself.

That they would probably end up hating each other because they were too stubborn to change for each other.

"What am I doing? _I_ am doing what a good son should do. I am making my parents proud of me. Something _you_ should be doing." Regulus took a deep breath to calm down, but his voice kept shaking a little.

"I am stepping in your shoes, because it's the only thing that can make mother feel better. I am being the heir of the Black family, because it's what my father expects of me after the disappointment you were."

The brothers looked at each other in the eye, the silence between them as charged as a high tension cable. A smirk made its way on Regulus' lips, distorting his face into the mask of an expression, the pain in his eyes contrasting with the repugnance on his lips.

"But you don't care about that, do you? You don't care that you broke our mother's heart when you left, as if we weren't your flesh and blood…"

And in that moment Regulus learned something new about his older brother: he saw Sirius' newfound rigidity in the way his brothers mouth tightened and his muscles coiled. There it was, another little piece of truth that Regulus had never known about the brother he had so loved: Sirius may not care about his family, but he was not comfortable with that indifference. It hurt Sirius to be so apart from his own blood. It hurt him to hate them as he did.

"One needs to have a heart in order to have it broken." Sirius said quietly, his expression carefully blank.

"She didn't get out of bed for _a month_ after you left." Regulus bellowed and then night echoed his words as if it wanted to confirm them. Sirius fisted his hands so hard that he felt his knuckles protest. The air was now tense between them all over again, as if they were strangers and not brothers.

"And now you want _what_? You want me to come to you? You want me to leave them? Or perhaps you would ask me to stay with them but give up on fulfilling the duties expected of me, just because you think they are wrong. You want me to break their hearts all over again by being just like you?"

Regulus stared at his silent brother and knew instinctively the answer to all those questions. _Yes_. Yes to everything. Yes, Sirius wanted all those things, because he thought they were right. Because he thought that it was best.

Regulus did not know which was worse: having a brother that had no idea about the destruction he left behind his every step, or having a brother that was selfish enough not to care at all about those he destroyed, about those he left behind. Did it matter, in the end, whether Sirius was ignorant or selfish? The result was the same: he had left them all, his family. He had hurt them, hurt _him_.

The selfishness in his brother was a rare kind, Regulus realized: Sirius could love well, he would die for those he loved. But the ones he cared nothing for, were inexistent to him. There was no goodness, no consideration in Sirius for those that were unable to hold his attention.

The realization was like a cold bucket of water to Regulus's spirits. He felt more alone in than he ever had and so very, very tired.

When he spoke again his voice mirrored his feelings.

"Do you really want to know why we're here, brother?" His brother didn't react so Regulus continued.

"We're here because you have always thought that you were right about everything. A most Black-like trait, if you really want to know. You take only your own opinion in consideration and don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks or who your decisions fall on, because you never turn around long enough to see the damage that is always right behind you… The truth brother? _You_ brought us here. _You_ made choices and now _I_ have to pick up the pieces…"

Sirius watched the face of his 15 year old brother, watched and saw something in that knocked him out of breath. For the first time in a really long time, Sirius wished he was able to cry. He could feel the tingling up in his eyes, but nothing was going to fall, he knew it.

The pain was just going to tear at his chest as usual, eating him from the inside out, making him want to howl. But there would be no tears.

"You made your choices Sirius. Now you have to live with them."

"I'm going to get you out." Sirius said with gritted teeth, determined, and Regulus realized that no matter how much they talked this through, they would never come to an understanding.

It was as if neither of them really heard the other.

Regulus shrugged a little. "Stubbornness runs in the family I suppose… Now I want my wand back, if you please. I'm going home."

Sirius hesitated for a moment, but then gave his brother his wand back, even though he was unwilling to let go of him just yet. This, all that had happened in the last hour felt irrevocable and yet, very much dreamlike at the same time.

He was unwilling to accept this as a goodbye.

"I'm going to talk to our parents."

Regulus' eyes – eyes that were such a perfect mirror of his - snapped up and for the first time Sirius saw fear in them.

"I'd rather you didn't." Regulus said slowly, enunciating every word as if it weighted a ton.

"I'm going to anyway."

Regulus scoffed. "And say _what _exactly? You're going to try to convince them that the Dark Lord is a demon, a war is coming and we're all going to die? I don't think so."

"I'm going to talk to them."

"I'm not going to let you. You've done enough damage."

They stared each other down, neither relenting one bit, both were equally determined. Then Sirius felt the corner of his lips curve in the shadow of a smirk.

"Stubbornness runs in the family." He said with a shrug.

An identical small smirk mirrored his even though Regulus scoffed at his brother words. But it was the century-old looking sadness in his brothers eyes that really broke Sirius' heart.

The next moment, Regulus had vanished from his sight, leaving both of the alone in the worlds they had chosen for themselves.

_AN: So, what do you think about the brothers? Are they 'brotherly' enough? Do you get the feeling that they are friends as well as relatives? I'm was really worried about the duel part - I have a feeling that I suck at action... Any advice/comment is much appreciated. Thanks for reading, as always :)_


	8. Act 7 - Prelude to shellshock

**Act 7 - Prelude to shellshock**

_We dancers are very lonely people. We work together but we are very much self-made, self-centred individuals. -Anonymous-_

_Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment; most people are even incapable of forming such opinions. -Albert Einstein-_

There are some things in life that you can't help. Things that will happen no matter what you do. They are meant to happen and it's impossible to stop them from happening.

So does this mean that all is written and what is meant to happen will happen? That we have no ultimate choice or control? That these words should be appropriate only to what movie you want to see or what socks you want to wear, but all choice transfers out of your reach when it comes to the things that make your life real?

Is that what predestination is?

The music picked up and as the tempo increased so did the speed of Anya's movements. She was always keeping count of the steps in her head, calculating every ounce of pressure in her limbs, every millimetre of her movement. As if she was a machine, not a human body.

Because dancing is not as romantic as it looks on premier night. Looking effortless takes years of practice. But the sweat behind all that beauty is not for the spectators. That's for the mirrors in practice-halls.

Anya she spun on her tiptoes, the headache banging in her skull hard like a hammer. But she couldn't grit her teeth. Even the expression of your face is important when you are in front of 3000 people that are watching your every move.

'_You should dance with you every muscle, even with your smile, even with your eyes._' Sasha always said that.

Her neck stiffened at the last moment, making her spin feel forced. But Anya knew that she wouldn't give up until she got these movements right. That determination, the inner anger at her inability to reach the level she wanted, those were the things that kept her going when her energies failed her - Like right now.

_The choice is mine. I make the rules my life is going to be lived by._

That was what she was thinking as she started over, feeling as if she had a fever.

Anya was convinced there was no predestination. And she kept moving, not letting one mistake stop her performance. Just because she had got this particular step wrong the first six times, it didn't mean she wasn't meant to ever get it right.

There would always be a seventh, an eighth… a _twentieth_ if need be. Until she got it right there would be no stopping.

This was the philosophy. This was the rule.

People said that to be a ballet dance you had to be born with the right body, that no amount of desire could compensate for what god had not given you, but Anya knew that was not all there was to it. Anna Pavlovnahad been laughed at for her sickly appearance, severely arched feet, thin ankles, and long limbs that were all so uncommon for her time. Margot Fonteyn had never had the perfect body type. Alicia Alonso Martínez had her greatest success after two years of convalescence - blinded, motionless, flat on her back, she taught herself to dance Giselle. After that she had danced blind, and rocked the stages of the world.

Those were Anya's examples, her idols.

As someone whom nature had favoured quite a bit when it came to talent and bodily form, Anya had no reason to stop trying. Hard work had never scared her. Giving up on herself would be an offence to everything she believed in and dreamt about.

Anya took her initial pose again, started over - again.

She did a series of turns and lifts, an intricate choreography that seemed to be executed with perfection… but she suddenly stopped in mid-turn, angrily stomping the floor, panting air in and out of her lungs. She still wasn't getting it right. This part was choreographed to be a solo. If she danced this, every eye in the theatre would be pointed on her. But there was more to a solo than stage monopolization. When Maya Plisetskaya was alone on stage, you couldn't tear your eyes away from her and it wasn't because of her body or her sharp technique.

It was something more than the sum of its parts. The very soul of the character come to life to show itself in its entire unique splendour. It was like being witness to a miracle. Anya wasn't there yet. With her, this choreography was still only a set of movements executed with great skill but … there was no _life_ in her steps.

"Damn it..." She hid her face in her hands for a few seconds. She felt like screaming.

Sasha was right, her state of mind was fucking her up real good.

Anya looked up at the clock bolted on the wall. It was almost eight o'clock, she was exhausted and angry enough to make a dent in the wall with something. After four hours of practice, she was still unsatisfied with her execution. She was exactly where she needed to be at the exact moment she should be there, her technique was sharp as diamonds, she did the fastest turns, she jumped higher than anyone else, had the fluidity of movement was astounding… but it was _still_ not good enough.

Anya knew she could do better. She wanted more.

She wanted the soul, the magic, the fairytale... not just the void technique. She wanted the miracle on stage. She wanted Galina Ulanova, Ana Pavlova, Maya Plisetskaya.

Anya knew she had the skill, the talent. So why couldn't she be as great? Why wouldn't someone come forth and try to teach her how to do that? Anya could learn it, she was sure she would, if only someone told her where to start…

Sasha told her sometimes that she aimed too high, but seriously, was there any other way of aiming? Sasha also said that Anya demanded too much of herself, but Anya didn't agree with that either. Because in this moment, as she wished for greatness but was unsatisfied with the execution of some simple steps, Anya knew that the fault laid with her.

She felt as if her life had come to a screeching halt and the stop had taken her so by surprise that she was confused for the first time in her life. Her soul was in chaos, her mind a battlefield of desires that had never been there before.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she govern herself anymore?

Anya walked to the centre of the room, facing herself in the mirror, staring at her own face as if she was looking at a stranger. She was covered in sweat and flushed from exertion, the blush coming from who knows where, because Anya was sure that she didn't have any more energy left in her…

She went to the stereo and put in another cassette-tape. The first notes came on, slow, lulling and Anya relaxed her entire body, willing it to go limp. She took a deep breath, relaxed and started swaying slightly to the music. No rhythm, no technique, her feet flat on the floor. She felt her breathing go down, her heart rate slow. And when she finally felt her body find its pace again, once she was able to keep count of the beats of her heart, she took a deep breath and lifted herself up on pointe.

Easy as breathing, almost unconsciously.

She floated on the surface, not really thinking about her movements. She wasn't dancing any known choreography, she was just dancing. Then after some counts and relaxed movements, she started executing the steps she had been practicing earlier, but now executing them on half speed, almost in slow motion. Anya loosened her neck muscles when she spun and this time it was almost as the movement had come on its own.

A smile made its way on her lips. She should have known that she had to loosen the neck and rely just a bit more on her stomach muscles than her back's.

But sometimes perfection took a couple of tries to get there, you couldn't rush it.

The sun's last rays filtered in the classroom's high windows, basking the room with golden light and slowly plunging the studio into shadows. Anya didn't turned on the lights even though it was harder to look at her movements in the big set of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. But lighting didn't matter anymore - her dancing in this moment had no real purpose other than to fulfil itself.

When she had finished executing her choreography in that slow, soft way, Anya stopped in the middle of the room and took a deep breath. She wiped her tears away. Like the rest of her movements, they had come on their own.

"What have you lost, my love?"

Anya turned on the spot and almost lost her balance in her fright. Sasha was standing at the door, leaning against the frame, her lean body half eaten by the shadows.

"Sasha!" She almost squeaked the name out. "Do scare the bejesus out of me, why don't you!"

"Watch our tone in my presence young lady. And answer my questions."

It always amazed Anya how Sasha could alter the tone of her voice, from reprimanding and severe, to soft, almost caressing.

"I don't know what you mean." Anya breathed out. It was all she could do to talk right now. She felt as if she didn't even have the strength to stand up.

"You dance now as if you were alone in the world. But I think you have not lost. You just haven't found – which is worse."

As she spoke Sasha came over to Anya, urged her to sit on the floor and start her warming down exercises. She massaged the sore muscles on Anya's shoulders and neck, helping her stretch and unwind. Sasha's words however didn't hold any meaning for Anya.

Sometimes her mentor delighted in talking riddles. It was her favourite way to irritate students. Keeps them on their toes, she said. In that moment though, Anya was too tired to care to solve any word-games, but she did like the sound of the words. They sounded so poetic, as if they held some deep secret.

But their meaning, if there was any, escaped her.

"It is very tragic, I admit. Very Russian." Sasha added, in a much more practical tone, the note of pride in her voice obvious.

But Anya knew that wasn't for her, but directed at their home-country. Sasha was very proud of her origins, even though she had not set foot in Russian soil in almost a decade.

Still, Anya smiled. Involving the viewer in your feelings through your dancing was a very high compliment. Stage presence and the ability to transmit feeling when dancing were what made the difference between the good and the best. Anya didn't say anything in response though. Because no matter what Sasha said, Anya didn't see an artist when she looked at herself, but just a girl who lived for dancing.

Maybe one day she'd get to be an artist Anya thought with a small smile: someone who created beauty with every movement, someone capable of breathing life in her steps, in her parts.

Some day… If she worked very hard.

"We are going to practice the _Dying Swan_ tomorrow. You always make a beautiful Dying Swan: so lean and birdlike." Sasha said softly, as she unbound Anya's bun and massaged her scalp. Anya hummed and let her head fall back. Sasha knew Anya always got a headache when her hair was bound for too long – she couldn't stand having her hair pulled in any way.

"You think I can pull this off, Sasha?" Anya murmured, suddenly feeling vulnerable, her insecurities eating at her. She knew Sasha understood that she wasn't talking about the practice tomorrow.

"Oh, yes I do. And I know you think so too."

_Right…_

Some days it was better than others, but the clench in Anya's gut was ever-present when she thought about the next steps she wanted to take in her life.

It was all so messy, so many decisions. The only time it quieted down was when she danced. When she danced, Anya was everything she wanted to be and that overshadowed everything else. The one thing she was good at had turned into a harbour.

But lately something had shifted. Something had changed and Anya had started to feel held back by everything she was, because this one _other_ thing had appeared in her life. Something that didn't belong in it. Another other possibility of happiness that had nothing to do with ballet, a shadow of a feeling that constantly bothered her…And every path Anya had forged for herself took her farther away from that possibility.

It was something she wanted… maybe even needed?

... _Someone_?

Anya groaned faintly. She had tried to avoid thinking about it for months, struggled to understand it, the knot in her heart that it caused. And yet, it always seemed unreachable, like a star she was wishing on. What Anya felt whenever she thought of that possibility was nostalgia for something she had never had nor would ever have.

Anya didn't ever allow her mind to dwell on it too long or it would be too real. But right in that moment, Anya was just simply too tired to pretend. Seated down on the smooth wooden floor, exhausted, sad and emotionally drained, she felt so desolate that she could cry her heart out. There were no barriers of pride or good sense in her in that moment. All she felt was an incredible ache inside her that had no sensible origin. It was just _there_, like her heart had opened up, lacerated. It hurt - and what made it hurt wasn't even _real_. If just the possibility of its existence screwed her up this bad then how much would it hurt if what she was yarning for became real… and then crashed and burned?

The mere possibility was too much to think of, but when Anya allowed herself to dwell on it a little - the whole thing felt more irreparably inevitable than gravity.

Which scared her shitless.

"I feel as if I'm missing something… I mean…" Anya caught herself. That instant of momentary emotional nakedness shook her, as if it had come out of her unwillingly, and that thought had managed to escape through the bars of her control because she was exhausted.

She collected herself as best as she could, but not fast enough to escape Sasha's shrewd eyes.

"I mean, like my _dancing_ is missing something." Anya repaired, turning to face her long time mentor. Sasha looked pensive, which mean that she agreed.

Anya felt a stab of panic.

"What is it? What am I missing? Why do I feel like whatever I dance is so plain."

Sasha looked up at her student. Anya knew that look on Sasha's face. It was the same look with which she told girl to get out of her classroom and never come back again.

It was the look she did business with.

"I have been looking at you dance for more than a decade. Your physical gifts are exceptional. Your technical precision is diamond sharp, and if taken in context with your age, it's the work of a genius. With these two qualities alone, you would stand out in any audition, for any company. That I believe truly."

Anya listened carefully. It was not often one got to hear these kinds of things by the mouth of one like Sasha Vasillovic Grinovski. Anya knew that she was the best in this school, but hearing it said from Sasha's mouth was... strange. She felt one step closer to the destiny that she had chosen for herself and one step farther from the ghosts of strange feelings that kept chasing her.

She didn't know whether to be smile in victory or cry the loss of something she didn't even possess.

"But there is one more thing, one thing that sets you apart from everyone else: You dance with heart, not just with feet… Now this, this is giving you a problem now, because you are now more troubled than I have ever seen you. You have lost focus."

Anya was almost struck out of her breath. This was a different kind of blow. Her pride suffered severely on that. Anger surfaced easily, but Anya restrained it with an iron fist.

She would be damned if she got defensive on this.

"I most certainty have not. I know _exactly_ what I want!"

But in front of Anya's seemingly calm response, Sasha only smiled, maybe a little sadly. She reached out to brush Anya's hair out of her eyes.

Sasha had always been very understanding of her, probably the only person except for her mother that was able to look through Anya's ever-present coolness. Her mother was able to do it because she knew Anya's character like the back of her hand. Sasha could do it because she understood Anya's dancing as if her movements were the written pages of a book.

Anya had always had a high respect for her teacher, and great admiration for her as a ballerina. It had grown to love with the years.

Right on that moment though, as the last rays of the sun faded from the sky and the studio plunged slowly into darkness, the bond that Anya and Sasha had formed through the years was the only reason why Anya didn't flinch away from the sympathetic look she was receiving. It made Anya's skin crawl, but she stood her ground. She didn't want to offend her mentor because despite all her irascibility, Anya was a perfectly reasonable person and she knew that Sasha meant no offence and that she was very right in her observations.

"My dear Anushka… I have no doubt you will be great. You are an exceptional talent. Perhaps too exceptional for a 17 year old to handle." Sasha's voice was so soothing, as it rarely was.

This time Anya hardened.

"I have known what I wanted to be since I was four with the same clarity I do now. Nothing has changed in that direction and my desire has only grown." Anya spoke almost coldly. Sasha smiled even wider, losing the sympathetic look and taking an air of coy amusement.

"Ah, yes. You as a four years old I remember. Then as a ten years old, banging on by studio door. I remember well indeed: the rudest little squirt I had ever met." Sasha smirked and Anya softened at the memory of their first lesson together.

"Oh, please. That was the only reason you took me in." She said, making Sasha chuckle and then offer her student her hand to take as she got up.

"Yes. Perhaps it was." She responded, and it was a simple statement, but in her eyes, Anya saw that there was something more. Sasha's elegant features reflected an air of melancholy, sadness even.

But it was gone fast.

"But do not lie to yourself. I took you in only because you were half Russian and I was feeling melancholic for home." Sasha added in her characteristically flippant manner.

Anya burst into laughter, emptying in it the last reserve of energy she had left. The room spun a little and Sasha noticed her momentary vacant expression.

"Come. I'll give you a ride home. Passing out on the floor is strictly forbidden. You can do that in your own house."

oOoOo

When Anya got home, her mother hadn't returned yet – which was odd. But she didn't worry, probably because she was so exhausted that she went and fainted on the bed without even having dinner first. The next morning, she rose early and without the need of her alarm – which was also odd. She was not a morning person, but sleeping for ten hours straight was enough even for her.

Anya walked almost blindly to the kitchen where her mother was making coffee humming to herself, the newspaper in one hand casually. The sweet, ethereal sounds of Puccini's, '_Ancora un passo' _were filling the house, making Anya feel as if she was sleepwalking, maybe still in a dream. The soprano's dulcet tones were soothing the way all familiar things are; but more than that, this piece was pure magic, of the kind that could soften the sharp edges of Anya's morning moods. She positively loathed early mornings… but this had all the intents and purposes of being a very good day, Anya could feel it.

"You were late last night." Anya murmured to her mother, who was sitting on one of the chairs near the kitchen counter reading her morning paper, her working robes flawlessly pressed and smooth, hair perfectly wavy and glossy. Katherine Rain radiated class, efficiency and professionalism even when she was doing something as mundane as reading her morning paper.

"I know, I'm sorry baby." Katherine said looking up with a small apologetic smile. Anya went and poured the fresh coffee in two big cups, for herself and her mother. Katherine always waited for Anya to wake up so that they could have their morning coffee together.

"What happened?" Anya asked, handing her mother the cup and sitting on the counter instead of on the chair.

"Nasty duel in Nocturne Alley."

"I thought those were common in that part of the city." _Despite_ the law against engaging in duelling in public areas, Anya thought bitterly. But Nocturne Alley wasn't exactly the place you ought to be in, if you liked to stick to the rules.

"Yeah, but this one was big. The location looked like it had been imploded with a bomb. There was some blood and pieces of burned cloth, but the Aurors wouldn't comment on anything, let alone the culprits."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Ever thought that maybe they didn't know yet, mother?"

Katherine huffed, her indignation palpable.

"_Of course_ they knew. There were at least two witnesses and they were both detained for questioning at the Auror headquarters. Clever trick if you don't want them blabbering off to anyone before the official version of facts get out. I couldn't even get near the site thanks to the roadblocks - the ministry has practically shut down the entire Alley. It's _obvious_ that they're trying to hide something."

Anya paused, her cup halfway to her lips.

"Wait… how would you know what the site looked like if there were roadblocks and Aurors all over the place?" she asked carefully, analyzing every move her mother made. When her mother didn't answer, Anya felt the twinge of worry that never left her whenever these situations presented themselves.

"Mother?"

Katherine shrugged as if Anya was asking about the weather. "I went behind enemy lines, my love. It's what I'm best at."

Anya's heart skipped a beat.

"_Mom_!"

"Oh come on, cut me some slack! This story _reeks_ of ministry cover-up. Why not let the press at the site, huh? It wasn't a murder scene. And why were they so adamant about the witnesses speaking with nobody? Trying to pass it for an accident." Katherine scoffed in a very unladylike manner. "Yeah, right, accident my ass! The place was practically _sizzling_ with the remnants of multiple spells. An idiot would know it was a dual site."

Anya rolled her eyes, knowing that there was nothing she could say on this. There was no stopping her mother once the woman got on a roll. At least she hadn't gotten caught, Anya consoled herself. Being there as her mother got bailed out of jail _once_ was enough, thank you very much!

"There's someone important tangled in this and the ministry is doing everything they can to avoid scandal when they should be out there trying to catch those wizards that go around killing muggles for fun."

Anya stopped the tirade before it got anywhere else. Her mother was always thinking about everyone else, but she rarely took into account the direct consequences that her reckless actions brought on her own head – and inevitably, on that of her daughter.

"You would have been arrested if you were found. I don't think The Prophet is going to bail you out anymore."

Katherine laughed. "Oh, for a story like this one, they would have bailed me out of hell if they needed to. And I'm good enough not to get caught, so no worries."

Anya knew that. She knew her mother was a very talented witch and that the Prophet was bound under magical contract to back her up whenever Katherine had troubles that related to her job. Anya _knew_ all of this, but that didn't stop her from worrying. It didn't make her mother's stories seem like distant and exiting adventures. The dangers Katherine so recklessly put herself through were too close and too real to amuse her - they scared her.

The way her mother was so prone to self-destruction chilled Anya to the bone.

With aching clarity Anya remembered exactly why depending on a person as self-sufficient and autonomous as her mother was painful. She couldn't lose her – her mom was all she had… Every time the fear of losing her caught up with Anya, the strength of the momentary despair was always the same - and Anya always pushed it away, convincing herself that her mother was going nowhere.

Anya could even reason her way through that irrational emotion: death was just as present as life and once it breaths down your neck once, the fear of it never lets go of you. It was an illusion, she knew. A fear she had inherited from her childhood, from losing her father so soon and so horribly. But that was the past, she told herself. Her mother was not going anywhere…

"Besides, even _if_ I'd been caught, this time it would have been worth it. I have everything I need to publish this… and its going to be big." Katherine murmured, looking at the wall behind Anya, her mind seemingly far away.

If that unseeing look had not been enough, then the tone her mother used would have put Anya on her guard. Katherine rarely sounded so very grave.

There was something she was not sharing. And from the look in her mother's eyes, Anya knew she wouldn't like it.

"Is this about that piece McClaren wouldn't let you write? Is this duel in Nocturn Alley connected to it?" Anya asked, but wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the truth on this one. Her mother didn't like to talk about big stories before they were finished and Anya kinda like it that way.

"Yes. We did some editing, but the core of the piece is intact. It's on this morning's first page."

Anya almost choked on her gulp of coffee.

"It's _published_?! But this duel happened just yesterday!"

Katherine chuckled, as she looked at her daughter with pure mischievousness, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I'm a fast worker baby. I have a third witness that the Aurors don't know about on tape, a blood sample from the scene and everything else to prove the facts of the story. I still have to get the confirmation from the people involved, but that is just bureaucracy at this point."

Anya felt her breath chill in her lungs.

"You have… Did you just say you have blood samples from the scene?" Anya asked, her voice a little faint. The silence that followed could only be defined as guilty. Anya turned to her mother horrified.

"You _stole_ evidence? From a civilian off-limit scene of a potential crime? Are you _out of your mind_?" Anya hissed as if she thought a ministry official was right behind their front door, at this very moment, listening in.

"That's called compromising evidence! There are _severe_ laws against that, mother! They could haul you ass in prison for _years_!"

Katherine rolled her eyes making Anya want to pull out her hair. There was no reasoning with this woman when it came to the lengths she would go for a story.

"Anya, don't worry so much about me. I take risks, but I never cross the line. There are laws, yes. But if my job has taught me anything is that there are also ways _around_ those laws."

But every reassuring word that came out of Katherine's mouth only served to heighten Anya's anxiety.

"You know that the Minister just can't wait to get his paws on you. You're just making it easier for him."

Katherine didn't say anything. She was too riled up still about her latest scoop to be worried about the consequences. Those were for later. That was Katherine's motto: tell the truth before your brain gets in the way. There was nothing more destructive to the motor of good journalism than too much self-preservation instinct.

Besides, Katherine had been promised protection for herself and especially her daughter, from people that were much more capable of giving it than any legal clause ever could. Anya was safe – they both were.

Dumbledore had promised.

"Don't you want to know whose blood it was?" Katherine teased. Anya took a deep breath and tried to get herself together. She was overreacting, she knew it.

"Figures, you already had in analyzed." Anya murmured.

Katherine's shrug was so nonchalant it could have been comical compared to Anya's rigidity. "Roberts owed me a favour."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Who doesn't…"

"James Potter." Katherine said with finality.

"James Potter is the one that does _not_ own you a favour?" Anya asked, one of her eyebrows raised. Katherine narrowed her eyes at her daughter, but she couldn't hold back the smile.

"Don't get smart with me. It was Potter's blood. _Potter_, of all people." Katherine added with a snort. Anya was stunned into silence by the news. Ha, her daughter had no witty response for that one, did she!

"That boy just keeps pushing it with the department of magical regulation. He has his very own file in Amelia's office, thick as a dictionary, like you wouldn't believe. You're in the same year as him aren't you?"

Anya's silence and sudden stillness made Katherine look at her daughter puzzled. Anya seemed to be barely breathing all of a sudden.

"Anya?"

"Yeah." Anya cleared her throat. "Yes, we are, but we haven't shared any classes since third year."

Anya got up and went to the sink, trying to hide her sudden apprehension as she started washing her cup, praying her mother hadn't noticed anything weird. Katherine was still talking about the story and this time Anya listened attentively.

There had been a duel. _That_ was where they went in such a hurry yesterday afternoon: into a fight.

_Figures!_

Potter had been there, so of course _he_ would have been there as well. Those two were like each other's shadow. And there had been blood…

Anya closed her eyes slowly, containing the thought before it numbed her brain completely.

"… with Sirius Black apparently. My initial guess was that they had been attacked - it wouldn't have been a first. I heard rumours that Black had been beaten to a pulp after he ran away from his home last year, was it true?"

Katherine had stopped and Anya took her queue.

"I never heard anything." She said faintly, trying to make it convincing. Katherine shrugged, as if she had been expecting it.

"Yeah, I never got hold of a source to confirm that either. Hogwarts is impenetrable when it comes to news. Dumbledore always was very protective of his students." Katherine's smile held the taste of melancholy. In her reminiscence of her school years, Katherine didn't noticed her daughter's peculiar reaction to her words. What her mother had just said had freshened Anya's memory with something she'd rather forget.

She was not lying when she said she never _heard_ anything about Black being beaten. She truly had not, almost nobody in the castle had known, the word had not spread. That episode had been the best kept secret at Hogwarts – and that was saying something, since secrets had a nasty way of getting out in that castle.

But if her mother had ever asked Anya if she _knew_ anything, then Anya would have lied. She would have said she didn't… and since had been wishing for a long time for that to be true, she wouldn't even have felt bad about it.

It had been a few weeks after Christmas break, last year.

She remembered him on the hospital bed, all bandaged and unconscious.

She remembered _all too well_ his face.

Even now Anya shivered from the recollection, her stomach turned as if she was nauseous. His usually so attractive face had been in a pitiful state, a collection of blue and violet bruises, his left eye so puffed that he probably wouldn't have been able to open it. His wand-hand had been all bandaged, but the tips of his fingers were visible… and they were blue.

The insanity of the coincidence was maddening. Anya shouldn't even have been at the hospital wing at the time, but Frederick Greyjoy - the Ravenclaw prefect who usually delivered the medical files that the nurse drew up for the Heads of Houses – he had been in class, and Anya had been the first Ravenclaw that Flitwik had seen, so he had send her.

A fluke of fate. The universe playing a cruel prank on her.

Anya regretted ever peeking over the curtain firmly drawn over his bed. Regretted it with all her heart. But she had seen the cloak on the hanger and read his name on the inside label… and her heart had found itself up on her throat, beating like crazy. She just couldn't help herself, it had been like gravity had switched directions. The nurse had been in her office gathering the files. Fate had either been on her side, or deeply resented her

… after seeing him in that state, Anya believed the second.

It hadn't been curiosity that had moved her legs, that made her peek round the curtain. It had been fear. Cold, sharp fear that pierced her gut like she had swallowed a live porcupine. Anya had barely been able to swallow a whimper when she'd seen him like that. Even now she could hardly bear the memory, even thought she'd barely looked for more than 2 seconds.

But Anya hadn't told her mother that she had seen Sirius Black after he was tricked into being alone and beaten within three inches of his life. She didn't want to. Anya didn't trust her mother with secrets anymore, because she never knew what Katherine would do with the information. Her mother had different moral codes than most people.

"…but my witness confirms that it was Potter who attacked first. The duel was between him and Bellatrix Black apparently. Which explains the destruction the alley sustained. If only half of what I've heard about that girl was true, it would be enough."

Katherine was about to tell how then Black had proceeded to kidnap his own brother, but the sound of smashed porcelain from behind her stopped her tale. She was by Anya's side in a moment. The cup that Anya had been drinking her coffee from was on all over the floor in pieces.

Anya was trying to get all of them with her hands but Katherine stopped her. With her wand, putting the cup back together was a moment's work.

"I'm sorry, it slipped right through my fingers…"

"It happens." Katherine said absentmindedly. She didn't care about the porcelain, especially since her daughter was looking so pale. She put a hand on Anya's forehead, but all she found was a thin sheet of cold sweat.

Her frown was deep, the story of the duel forgotten.

"What's wrong baby? Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just… It's nothing. I have to eat something, the coffee is making me jittery."

"Go sit down, you are too pale for my liking." Katherine said, her tone more imposing than she'd been since she came from the front door.

"Warm mild and boiled eggs, is it?" She asked, her back to Anya as she put the mild to heat.

"Yes." Anya answered and hoped hr voice didn't shake.

God, it had been Bellatrix.

_Bellatrix_…

The very name made Anya shiver…

Was there even a name for what Bellatrix Black was? Anya didn't know any that would fit, except for '_individual with sociopathic tendencies'_. And _he_'d been there, he had been within the range of Bellatrix's curses… His face, all bruised and bloodied came to mind again, like a ghost. It didn't go away when Anya closed her eyes and cursed herself for remembering.

Anya ate her breakfast in silence, her mother kept reading her paper and talking about things at work in general. Anya was grateful that the topic of the duel was not opened again. She didn't want to hear the details. It was bad enough that she knew beforehand that the story would run. Being in the backstage of the process felt like betrayal.

Which was silly, but still… it was the way she felt about it.

And Anya knew there would be consequences, there would be questions. Everyone would talk. Her mother's name would come up, no doubt. It was always like that when Katherine did a big story. People knew who her mother was, because of her stories and also because of the court calls she had been a part of. Katherine Rain had been the first reporter in almost all big scoops for the past seven years: from the Worthington scandal to the Hartington affair and of course, the latest series or articles on the corruption within the ministry.

There was not a witch or wizard in England who read the Prophet that did not know who Katherine Rain was. The really frightening ones even knew her daughter.

Then, just as Anya thought of that, another lighting flashed in her mind, and this time, it was reassuring: Many people may know her, but for the hundredth time, Anya was so completely happy that _he_ didn't know her that well. That he had no idea whose daughter she was. He may be, because of stupid chance or cruel fate, involved with Cleo these days, but that did not mean that he could not be avoided.

Suddenly her fight with Cleo Diana and Alicia seemed something positive, convenient and she was glad for it. The academy was big, Anya's hours were long and her ability to impersonate wallflowers and disappear in the background was yet unmatched by anyone she had ever met. Avoiding any and all contacts with him would be beyond easy.

What Anya couldn't have predicted however was that with that article, everything in her life would change – starting from that very day.


	9. Act 8-Secondary effects of shockwaves-1

**Act 8 - The secondary effects of shockwaves (part 1)**

_To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed. – City of Bones_

_Love never claims, it ever gives; love never suffers, never resents, never revenges itself. Where there is love there is life; hatred leads to destruction. - Mahatma Gandhi _

Anya had been prepared for the whispers and murmurs and occasional snickers that would follow her around today. Her fight with miss Blonde Popularity and the rest of them would have its consequences and they presented themselves in quite a predictable fashion, in Anya's opinion.

Compared to Hogwarts, these people were nothing, she thought, scorning them all.

It was easy for Anya to feel that way: she was weathered in forms of bullying much stronger that snickers and taunting glances. These passive aggressive idiocies were nothing compared to some other things Anya had seen and sometimes even experiences. She knew what it felt like to be haunted by idiots that had nothing better to do at the moment, just because they thought you a spaz. Boredom was a dangerous thing, and wizards got creative when they were after cheap entertainment.

More often than not, Anya had seen the line between harassment and cruelty crossed, and it was usually done in the name of harmless fun.

Anya ignored everyone as she packed her things and got out of the classroom with her head held high, just as she always did. She hardly spoke to anyone even on normal days, so her being taciturn was no surprise.

She let her bag fall on the floor of Sasha's classroom and started stretching by the bar. She was the only one there: class didn't start for another hour and a half. But Anya had already had lunch – a nice salad and some chicken breast - so she chose to use the time to practice some more.

"Hey there."

Anya turned around and saw Alicia standing there, leaning against the wall. For a second, Anya was frozen.

"Hey." Anya said uncertainly, only because it was an automatic response.

"Have you decided how we're going to handle this temporary breakup we've been having?" Alicia asked flippantly, but Anya knew that the nonchalant tone was just Alicia's way of hiding her emotions when she couldn't control them.

"I'm not so sure..." Anya murmured, eyes not wavering from Alicia's green ones. She decided that telling the truth couldn't hurt, so she did.

"I thought about apologizing to you for what I said yesterday, but then I saw Cleo and Diana laughing their arses off at me this morning and you didn't seem to mind – so I supposed you were still very much angry at me."

Ali looked away for a moment and nodded faintly, but said nothing.

At once Anya knew that this whole thing wasn't worth it. If they were true friends, they both deserved a chance to be so again. If not, then forgiving each other would nobody any real harm, since none of it would matter.

"I'm sorry about what I said to you, I was mean and insensitive and I shouldn't have directed my anger at you or shut you out like that, when you were trying to help. I'm just not… comfortable with sharing my feelings." Anya said it all in a rush and by the honestly stunned look on Alicia's face, she understood that the chocolate-skinned beauty hadn't come here expecting an apology.

What had she come for?

"I'm sorry about the hazing. Diana and Cleo have been busy badmouthing you to everyone willing to lend an ear." Alicia said, eyes serious, arms still crossed over her chest.

Anya snorted. "I don't care about what they have to say, you know that."

"I'm sorry I didn't stop them. I should have." Alicia looked away, unwilling to meet Anya's eye. Anya didn't really know what those two had been saying behind her back. Probably nothing untrue, but still very mean and hurtful. It didn't matter anyway. People would get over the rumours as soon as the next interesting event came along.

"You were mad at me, I understand. Besides, give it a couple of days and this too will be history."

Alicia looked up, her eyes stilled and her manner hesitating as if she didn't know what to say, which gave Anya pause. Alicia never hesitated, she was the most secure person Anya knew! There were a couple of stilled moments until Anya decided to break the silence the only way she knew how: callously.

"Ok, enough with the chick-flick moments, I can only take so much." Anya deadpanned as she took a long gulp of the cool water, feeling its freshening right down to her stomach. Alicia chuckled.

"Just so that we're clear, the next time we fight, it's your turn to take the first step to reconciliation." Alicia pointed out and Anya almost choked on her water, because laughing while drinking was never a good idea.

"Oh, so _that's_ why you're here huh! Last time we fought I was the say sorry, so now it was your turn! And here I was, thinking you just missed me."

Alicia threw a splash of water Anya's way, which she didn't dodge effectively enough her arm wetting a bit. They laughed.

"Hey, just remember, you may have shown your face first, but _I_ was the one who said I was sorry first." Anya pointed out. Alicia glared for a second, but the obvious was hard to deny.

"Bitch." Ali mumbled, but with a smile and Anya chuckled. The banter felt familiar, comforting.

"You seem really cool though. I expected to find you freaking out." Alicia said as she sat on the wooden floor next to Anya, who was doing some stretching, and leaned against the wall.

"Don't flatter yourself, you're not the centre of my universe!"

Alicia gave Anya a playful push, but her tone was equally serious when she spoke again "I meant that you look calm. Its unusual - considering that every time your mother catches a big one you're all over the place."

Anya tensed only for a moment, but then made herself relax.

"It's not that big a deal. Corruption in the ministry is hardly a new thing. My mother mentions it in almost everything she writes. Besides, I've decided I don't want to read the article at all."

There was a moment of silence, and then…

"_What_?"

Anya was caught aback by Alicia's high pitched tone, but she still responded in her usually calm voice. "It's just too weird, you know. Knowing the people involved, it just doesn't seem right to poke."

"Knowing the people involved? What the hell are you talking about Anya?"

"You know, Potter and Black. _Bellatrix_." Anya honestly couldn't help a shiver at that woman's name. Alicia kept looking at her as if she'd spouted off another head.

"This… the article isn't about James and Sirius, or Bellatrix for that matter. I mean, it starts with that duel, but then its gets into a whole other dimension." Alicia leaned in a bit, smoky green eyes looking into Anya's so intensely that Anya found it a bit disconcerting.

"Anya, your mother practically accused the Minister of Magic and his administration of direct corruption and wilfully covering up the workings of organized crime. This is _serious_!"

Going from the look of shock on Anya's face, Alicia gathered she had no idea about the severity of the situation. Alicia huffed, irritated. "Honestly, doesn't you mother tell you anything?"

"N-no. She… she doesn't like to talk about her stories before they are published, not even with me." Anya took a deep breath, closing her eyes as if to get it back together. "Is it really that bad? What did _your_ mother say about it?"

And the question was strategic, because Alicia's mom worked directly for the Minister. Alicia looked around, as if to make sure they were alone, and then her head came closer to Anya's, and her voice was hushed.

"She almost choked on her coffee this morning reading it. She was up and ready to go through the fireplace in 5 minutes. And I heard my dad talking about it later; he says that there's a good chance that Wizgamot is going to raise a case and prosecute the Minister. If there is _any_ proof of what you mother wrote, he could go to Azgaban."

Anya's eyes popped wide open and before she could form another word Alicia had already produced a copy of the Prophet from somewhere and thrust it in her face.

Anya hesitated.

This morning Anya had wondered whether or not she should read this article. She had never been someone who read a lot of news, she'd never needed to: her mother was like a live feed to everything she needed to know. But this time it had been different: inside those pages there was information that she _wanted_ to know. Even though it did not really concern her, she wanted to know what happened, because it had happened to _him_.

Then Anya had wondered, what would he feel knowing that hordes of people outside his room are passing time reading about things personal to him…

What would he think? What would he do? Would he feel hurt? Angry? Anya didn't know, but she had decided that she would not join that multitude of people that after reading that article, would have assumed all kinds of things about the ones it spoke of.

She simply had not wanted to be one of the people he would resent…

But now she no longer had a choice in the matter.

And after talking with Alicia, she realized something else that made picking up that paper more easy: She had been wrong all along. This article was not just about _him_. He was just the leverage. Her mother's mess was, as usual, a lot bigger.

_THE MINISTRY OVERTAKEN_

_BY PUREBLOOD GOLD_

_The real nature of the changes that are overtaking out legal and penal system_

_by Katherine Rain_

oOoOo

Alicia watched as Anya stirred her tea and looked at a spot on the small rectangular table, her gaze vacant as if she was looking right through the wood. She had been waiting for Anya to give some sort of reaction other than two-worded sentences for a while.

After finishing the article, Anya had been silent and motionless like a stone. She'd simply rested her head against the wall as if her neck was useless and kept her eyes closed, like she was sleeping. But the furrowed eyebrows and tightly pursed lips drew on her face an expression of almost pain. Alicia had called out to her a couple of times and had felt the light touch of panic when Anya didn't give the smallest sign of hearing her. But when Alicia touched her, Anya jumped like a cat. Her eyes had been shiny and it was the closest Alicia had ever seen her to tears.

Somehow Alicia had convinced Anya to go outside, get some air. They had ended up in the small pub near the Academy. It was a quiet place where one could have a private conversation if one wanted to.

Too bad that Anya hadn't said a word for about 10 minutes.

The cloud in her eyes was thick, dulling the warm brown irises until they looked like muddled water. Anya had always been a person of few words, but she'd never been _this_ kind of quiet ever before – and Alicia was starting to feel very uncomfortable… almost a bit afraid. It was like Anya's lips were sealed never to be opened again. There was something disconcerting about her stillness, about her vacant look… as if Anya's insides had drained.

But interrupting her, bringing Anya out of those murky depths she was into now felt… inappropriate.

_Yeah, fuck that!_

Alicia gathered all her Gryffindor courage and opened her mouth to speak.

"Anya, talk to me." she whispered.

Anya looked up, honestly confused for a second, as if she had no idea where or with who she was. She didn't say anything, just looked at Alicia with those painfully lost eyes and for a moment, she looked like a little girl of ten.

_What is happening to you? _

That question had been banging around Alicia's skull for a while now.

"…_after the incident in Nocturn Alley, a generous amount of gold was transferred from the Black vault into the Minister's fund for the his next campaign… …while disappearances in the north and west of England keep piling up and the responsible are nowhere near to being apprehended…"  
_

"Your head is practically exploding. I can hear the buzzing from way over here. Just get it out. _Talk_ to me." Almost a plea, a soft enticement.

The words behind the words: _Let me help you._

For the first time in her life, Anya honestly wanted to talk it all out. No thinking about whether or not to tell the truth, but just to blurt it out and not feel sorry for doing so. No walls… She wanted to open up wide and vomit all her thoughts out. She wanted to be free of them so badly that she could almost cry from the desperation the feeling provoked.

"…_seemingly no parallel between these two situations, but the way the Ministry has handled them proves the contrary: lockdown of entire city clocks, seizing of witnesses and erasing of all evidence was a modus operandi of our law enforcement patrols…"  
_

But Anya couldn't do it… and the sensation of being stuck - trapped in her life like a bird in a cage - was like being on the verge of madness!

"…_hooded people that go around the countryside breaking the Treaty of Hiding, torturing muggles and then killing them in front of their families… … with new ways to legitimize old prejudice are being found every day, so is it really such a surprise that muggles and mugglebors are now dying?"  
_

Alicia felt more than saw Anya's hesitation. And unexpectedly, it hurt. Seeing Anya become more and more lost in herself as days went by and turned into months had done something to Alicia, changed something in her. And maybe she was growing up, and her priorities changing, but every day that Alicia thought she was losing her friend, became a day more that she realized she didn't want to.

So Anya's lack of trust in her now, when Alicia was feeling so exposed, upset her like it never had before. If before Anya's reluctance in spilling the beans about anything that might concern her person was just something that characterized her, now her silence meant lack of trust and it was surprisingly wounding.

Apparently it showed, because Anya's face changed from expressionless to alarmed.

"It's not that I don't want to! Alicia…" They locked eyes and Alicia read the despair in Anya's face as if it was written in red letters on her forehead. It was an expression she'd never seen before.

"I really do want to get it out, but… I can't. Because all I'm thinking about right now is my mother and when it comes to her, I can't say anything to anyone because everything about her is so…" Anya struggled to find a word that would fit, but Alicia got there first.

"Complicated?" Alicia offered and the relief that came off Anya washed over her like a wave.

"Yes!" Anya said with a smile that was at once hopeful and apologetic at the same time. She was hoping Alicia would understand.

"Honey, my father works for the inner offices of the Department of Mysteries and my mother is the executive manager of the Minister of Magic. The last thing you need to explain to me is '_complicated'_. I mean, my household practically invented the concept!"

Anya breathed easy for the first time since she had finished reading that awful thing.

'_Trust Ali to infiltrate jokes even in the most dire situations_.'

Dire situation… was this one of those?

"…_Witnesses have identified the aggressors beyond any reasonable doubt… AlastarMulciber, Gregory Nott, Dorian Avery, Luscious Malfoy, Bellatrix Black, Frederic Goyle, Rodolphus Lestrange, FiliusCrabe… seen in various crime scenes by multiple muggles whose memories were conveniently erased by ministry officials at a later time…"  
_

Anya had lived long enough near Katherine to know when a big story caused big reverberations. This was one of them. Her mother had accused some of the most esteemed members of society of murder, torture, corruption and organized crime. Katherine hadn't even left it at that. She had even made the name of the leader!

Be it not for her mother to do anything half-assed.

"…_the truth: These criminals that roam the streets of our cities are not unorganized. We have him, the leader of these seemingly random acts of mayhem: the wizard who goes by the name of Lord Voldemort…"_

Anya rubbed her temples. Her mother would either stand in trial as a witness to prove her accusations against the Minister, or stand trial for defamation.

And those… those _purebloods_. How could she have made their names like that? Those people were not normal. They were like a pack of wolves: if you harassed one of them, they would all turn on you and rip you apart limb by limb. And her mother dearest had made all their names, on the front page of the most read newspaper in the country!

They would go after her, Anya was sure. She has seen what those people were able to do to even when it came to one of their own. What was to stop them from going after Katherine in the same fashion? Or after Anya?

Was that Anya's destiny? To be repeatedly sucked into fights she was doomed to lose from the start?

Anya barely contained her tears. She would _never_ forgive her mother for this. Because in all honesty, if she were to admit the truth to her hears alone, it was not the trials and fights or even the fear of getting involved in something dark and bigger than herself that hurt Anya most. Because that's how she was feeling: hurt. More than she was scared or angry, she was simply hurting over the fact that once again, she felt completely and utterly alone in this world, as if she had no family even though her mother was still breathing.

"… _the Ministry has yet to openly admit that the blood of Muggles and muggleborns is less valuable than the gold of the aforementioned families, but the excruciating lack of action in these matters is as good as an admission of such standards…"_

The Ministry responsible for selling out its citizens, for holding double standards and allowing organized crime to go unpunished…

What did she think she was doing? Did she really think she was going to change the world? Anya was so angry that she could barely see straight: she knew it was all bullshit. _People didn't care_! The only thing that was going to change was _their_ life – Anya's and Katherine's – they would have to shift again, because Katherine Rain just couldn't keep her yap shut!

Nobody ever told anybody was it was like to be with people who liked to go for sainthood, but Anya had learned on her skin the secret that nobody whispers: Belonging to someone so righteous meant being trampled by a world of wrongs they inflicted on those around themselves, just so they could do a little good.

The price of loving Katherine Rain would always be pain. Always. Loving someone who could live better if they were alone, someone to whom you were nothing but a dead weight, was horror.

It was loneliness that lasted forever.

It was hurting.

"You misunderstood me though." Alicia said, bringing Anya back from the whirlwind of her thoughts. "What I wanted to know was how you feel. _You_, not anything about your mother."

In that moment Alicia's eyes were so sombre, her face so intent that Anya wondered whether she knew the girl in front of her or not.

"I'm scared."

The confession came in the form of a whisper, as if Anya was afraid to say it any louder than that, because then it might become too real. A separate entity that would eat her up. The monster under her bed that she had always been so afraid of – the reason Anya still slept with her night-light on.

But there was no amount light that would make this go away.

_How could she do this to me…_

"I don't understand… why is she so suicidal?" Anya whispered, so low that Alicia had trouble hearing it.

_I mean nothing to her, not even enough to want to keep me safe… nothing…_

"… and I know its selfish but I'm wearing so thin. I _hate_ her for what she does." Anya's voice broke and Alicia quickly got up to sit in the chair right next to her.

_It was supposed to be the other way around, not like this. _She _was supposed to take care of _me…

"…I just can't do this anymore… I'm tired, so tired…"

It was a string of whispers, not meant to be heard. Alicia didn't understand the meaning behind Anya's words, but she didn't need to. The desperation was so palpable that Alicia practically felt it as if it was hers. She'd never seen Anya like this… hell, she'd never seen anyone like this, and frankly it was freaking her out.

It was scary to realize to suddenly that under all those cold and indifferent layers, under the occasional arrogance and the unconcealed ambition, Anya was as capable of hurting so deeply. So much that Alicia knew she would never get to understand the depth of that pain. Even contained, the mere radiation of the emotion made Alicia want to flinch away, for fear of getting caught in the a whirlpool that felt all-consuming.

It scared her, yes… but Alicia was nothing if not brave. She didn't distance herself. She came closer, even when Anya flinched under her touch.

Alicia didn't understand all this hurt, it seemed an extreme reaction. She had been expecting surprise, anger. Some kind of rebellion – she knew that Anya was more than capable of it - but not this… this resigned desperation.

No, she didn't understand, but as she watched her friend being swallowed by her grief, Alicia realized that she didn't need to because she was not here for herself. She was here for Anya. Even if all she could do was stand close enough to let her know she wasn't alone.

And Anya being herself, didn't make this breakdown last more than it was absolutely necessary. It seemed to Alicia that the second Anya had the capacity to get herself together, she did, pulling up all her pieces and putting them back to their places, forcing herself to calm down. It was extraordinary the way she could do that, but then again, Alicia had never met anyone more self-disciplined than Anya.

10 minutes later Anya was pretending to be alright. She wasn't shaking anymore and her voice was smoother, even though her face was paler than usual.

"May I stay over at your place tonight?" Before Anya could finish, Alicia had already agreed. But on second thought…

"Are you trying to avoid your mum?"

Anya didn't answer and Alicia chose not to push it.

They were about to leave when, as she was getting up, Anya almost bumped into someone that had stepped in her way. Reflexively, without even looking up to see the person, Anya apologized and sidestepped. She looked up, confused, when the person put themselves in her way again.

Once Anya saw who it was however, the air froze in her lungs, her heart doubling its pace so fast that it hurt.

_Oh…_

Anya hadn't thought it would happen so fast…

"My, my, what a wonderful coincidence."

Anya instinctively took a step back as the sweet tilt in Bellatrix Black's voice filtered in her eardrums. Every instinct she had rand high and screamed at her to run. But there was nowhere to go…

"Bellatrix." Alicia's calm voice from right next to her was a sweet relief. At least she wasn't alone… "What brings you out to muggle London?"

Bellatrix merely speared Alicia a disinterested glance before she turned her heavy-lidded eyes back to Anya.

"It's such a fortune that I should meet you. You're just the person I wanted to talk to."

Anya thought about her wand, but she knew it would do her no good. She would be flat on her back before she even got it out of her pocket. Anya had already seen Bellatrix in action, she knew exactly what that witch was capable of.

"Too bad, we were just leaving. Another time perhaps." Alicia said curtly.

Anya seemed to have lost her voice. Her heart was beating where her vocal cords should be. Alicia apparently thought that this was no more than an attempt to intimidate, but Anya knew better. Bellatrix was a pure sociopath. Meeting her here hadn't been a stupid coincidence. Coincidence was wearing the same shirt two days in a row. Bad luck was stepping on something nasty on the sidewalk.

Meeting Bellatrix Black in a pub, in the middle of muggle London – that's the result of a carefully premeditated course of action.

And Bellatrix Black wasn't the kind to pay social visits or make petty threats. Bellatrix Black specialized in pain, because she loved causing it. She loved the control and that being over someone helpless gave her.

Alicia lightly took Anya by the hand and tried to pull her away, but she was stopped too. By a man Anya had seen before. His face had stared at her from the page of her mother's article.

"Sit down." He said. Two words that carried all the threat he hadn't bothered to voice. Lestrange's eyes were too cold not to be dangerous.

Alicia looked around and finally the full meaning of the situation started to sink in. This wasn't Hogwarts - no teachers here to run off to… Alicia had thought that with a bit of craftiness, she could slither her way out of this, but now she knew it was a trap. Anya had gotten to that conclusion faster – she had been surrendered right from the start, so it cost her nothing speak up now.

"Alicia, could you please wait for me outside. I'll be right there."

Ali looked at her wide eyed. "No bloody way in hell."

Alicia knew who she was up against, she'd have to be completely bonkers to leave Anya alone with those two vultures. Even if it was in a pub full of muggles in the middle of the day.

Lestrange looked at Alicia as if she was the shit he'd just stepped on. His tone was hard, ordering. "Disappear, vermin."

Alicia turned her glare towards him, her fingers a breath away from her wand. "Fuck yourself, creep-face. I'm here to stay."

And she planted herself on the fourth chair as if she was going to set roots there and never get her ass of it. Anya felt her heart skip a beat or two, but before Lestrange could say anything, Bellatrix beat him to it, her tone as friendly as ever, her eyes maniacal enough to put fear in any rational mind, staring at Alicia with an intensity that burned.

"There is no need for such language. After all…" now Bellatrix's eyes were on Anya, who instinctively flinched. "… I am here merely to give you a message. Just a little something for your mother…"

Anya's heart was beating like a mockingbird's wings, her palms were sweating. She felt as if the beautiful woman before her was barely human. The way Bellatrix's smirk looked so predatory didn't help, and Anya could swear that her teeth her pointy, like a shark's.

As Bellatrix leaned in, Anya leaned back, instinct telling he to keep her distance is she wanted all her pieces intact.

There was a movement under the table, Anya caught it, but before her brain could register anything more - hell imploded right then and there, in the muggle pub in London.


	10. Act 8-Secondary effects of shockwaves-2

**Act 8 – The secondary effects of shockwaves (part 2)**

_Fear is a wonderous thing. It makes you coil into yourself, it makes you whimper. It makes all teh worst parts of you shine into the light of day. It brings you forth until you see yourself in your black mirror_

It all happened so fast it was almost like falling into a nightmare.

All Anya heard was a high-pitched sound and then she felt herself being sucked backwards inside something that came to surround her like a translucent bubble. She barely caught a glimpse of it when an extraordinary force hit her out of nowhere, so strong that Anya flew backwards and smashed against the wall three feet behind her.

Her back and her head were the first parts of her to make contact with the unmovable surface. The pain was sharp and sudden but thankfully, it lasted very little. Everything got dark and quiet right after that for a moment or two.

When Anya came back, the screaming and explosions were like sounds coming off a badly tuned radio. She felt light-headed , like she had had too much to drink. Her body felt disconnected, the pain in her limbs dull, as if not really hers. Sluggishly, she touched the back of her head, and it came back soaked red. The vividness of her own blood made everything spin faster. Anya stopped looking at it and instead tried to focus on moving. On looking in front of her, to try to remember why everything hurt…

The thoughts in her head were messy and disconnected.

The hit, yes. Bellatrix moving under the table.

Damage control time: Even now, the thought of breaking a limb was worse than anything else. A couple of years ago, Bellatrix had promised her: '… _next time, I'll break both your legs…' _

Funny, she'd failed. Both her legs her fine.

Anya's head cleared a bit, enough to recognize Alicia's pink sweats, somewhere near to her right. But Ali refused to keep still and Anya kept seeing two of her. The next to be noticed was the figure of a man – planted in front of her like a living shield. He moved constantly, but not away from her. Anya had to make herself remember again _why_ she was on the floor. Her brain felt drunk, stoned… concussed.

_Bellatrix_… Who was currently away from her, almost at the door of the pub.

But Anya knew now that she was in the middle of a duel and she couldn't just stand there and do nothing; she had to find somewhere to hide, something to protect herself with. Spells kept flying around like small explosions and pieces of wall and wood kept being blasted off and raining like small daggers on the people in the pub.

Screams – a lot of them. They pierced her brain like alarms.

A crazy, high-pitched laugh sliced the air and for Anya there was another round of abuse by something she could neither see nor fight against: She felt like she was being hit with the force of a giant hammer. Anya was thrown back against the wall once… fell down hard on the floor, trying to protect her head with her hands…

But she didn't even have time to draw a breath when again, the unbelievable discharge of energy hit her and again bashed her entire body against the hard wall for the third time. Anya didn't even have voice enough to whimper. She fell on the floor again and her cheek hit the wood surface hard. Her teeth rattled. Her shoulder hurt so badly that she thought she'd dislocated it. There was a terrible pain somewhere along her ribcage that made every breath pure agony…

It wasn't been like being hit with a direct spell. More like… like being inside a purse when someone was banging it against the wall. The impact of her flesh against the wall hurt just the same, but that was the only one Anya felt. The bubble around her – by now Anya had realized it was a shield – had absorbed force of the initial impact. But from the blunt power of the spell, it shook and ended up pounding against the wall – along with the person it protected.

Her suffering was not to end just yet… Anya should have known. Bellatrix would not leave until she got a scream.

Out of nowhere, Anya felt as if an immense force was crushing her. Gravity 50 times stronger, trying to spread her on the floorboards as if she were butter on hot toast. Anya struggled against it to no avail. The pressure she felt was immense, as if she was under 10 thousand tons of water, being squished under a whale… the pressure so strong that she couldn't even fight against it to fill her lungs with air…

She couldn't breathe and the rib that had burned a little before, now was a hot poker in her chest. Her insides felt like they were going to burst out of her every pore.

Her head would explode from all the pain… a chainsaw in her brain, a thousand needles in her ears, eyes melting in their sockets, _the pain, the pain, the pain would kill her… stop stopstop please_…

And then, just as it had come, it lifted!

And Anya sobbed her despair and sucked the air in her burning lungs with all the strength she had, tears and blood staining the wooden floor. Breathing hurt, air was like tiny needles, but she inhaled sharply again and again - and coughed blood, almost choked in it. She sobbed, in the jaws of the kind of despair unlike any she had ever know.

For a moment she hated life and the oxygen filling her lungs. Hated ever being born. Now that she was breathing again, death didn't seem so bad, even as she had held on tooth and nail to life when her eyesight was fading, not a moment ago…

The next second everything went quiet. The repeated screech and blast that sounded like multiple car accidents died out as quickly as it has started, leaving no echo of itself behind, as if it had been sucked out of this dimensions. The deafening silence was worse. It was a silence woven with the whimpers of the people around her and it pressed against Anya's ears, it hurt so badly, as if it was trying to break through her eardrums into her brain and liquefy it out of her ears.

Anya tried to quiet herself, gather back her pieces. Everything – _oh God_… e_verythinghurt_… -but the tears had stopped. She tried to move but her muscles protested like they never had before. There was blood in her nose and blood in her throat – breathing was a gurgling mess. The metallic taste in her mouth made her want vomit, but she tried hard to keep it down because she was honestly afraid that her insides would pour out. The buzzing in her ears didn't stop, not even when the shimmery barrier around her was lifted.

After that, she wasn't seeing her surroundings through a fuzzy screen and at once she closed her eyes and tried to cower away. The whimpers and groans around her got louder and Anya couldn't stand them. She pressed her hands on her ears to block the sounds out, to keep _everything out_, only succeeding in causing herself more pain.

Anya flinched away from the hand that touched her, but it was Alicia's voice that made her open her eyes. Alicia was bleeding from the brow and had a strange blue thing on her arm. But it was the look on her face that scared Anya the most: she as completely terrified.

"Calm down, she is fine." a gruff voice said.

Anya didn't recognize it, but to her hurting ears the voice felt like a blow.

"She's bleeding from _everywhere_, how is that _fine_?" The hysteria in Alicia's voice was contagious.

Anya's breathing accelerated. She was bleeding from _everywhere_?

"Relax or shut up kid. You're scaring her." The man said harshly. "Do something useful and go see if anyone's hurt. Be quick, the ministry will be here any minute and we have to leave before that."

Alicia looked at the man helplessly, but saw the logic of the order and did as she was told. When the man turned to Anya, his tone was almost soft.

"Ok, I need you to be calm, alright? Can you hear me? I'm going to check if you have any broken bones now."

Anya had seen him before, she knew. But right at that moment, she couldn't remember where. His rough, battle-worn face, his sandy blonde hair were incredibly familiar. As were his calm blue eyes. Anya tried desperately to find her voice. When he touched a particularly sore spot on her shoulder, she finally did.

"My ribs hurt…"

"Did that happen before or after the last hex? Can you remember?"

Could she? Anya couldn't even tell her arms apart from her legs anymore, the pain was making everything so fuzzy. Which one had been the last hex? The one that made her feel like she was being crushed?

"Before, I think… after I hit the wall…"

But she had hit the wall a lot of times. Everything was blurred together.

"You're hurting everywhere, aren't you?" Anya closed her eyes and hope he would understand that was a yes.

"That's ok. If the last hex hasn't affected you enough to break anything, then you should be fine. Take this…" The man said taking a yellowish vial out of the internal pocked of his leather jacket. Just as he handed her the vial, Anya remembered who he was: Alastor Moody, Decorated Auror.

Her mother liked him. There was something about Hogwarts… they had been to school together or something…

"… it will take the edge off for a while. I'm going to have to let someone else take care of that bleeding wound in your head and your ribs though, we can't stay here long enough for me to take care of them."

Moody neared the vial to her lips and even though Anya didn't trust him for a second, the doubt didn't stop her from swallowing the potion. The pain was too great and the will to fight was weaker than ever. But nothing bad happened, on the contrary. Her sight cleared, her headache stopped, her ears stopped thumping in pain at the barest sound. The pain that reverberated up and down her body like an electric current toned down to manageable levels, becoming a dull ache. She could cope with that – she'd had worse after a particularly strong workout.

Anya took a deep breath and tried to sit up…

"Don't!" The man above her warned, but he didn't even have to push her back down because Anya had already slumped back. She had underestimated the pain in her ribs. The suddenness of it almost blinded her. Her breathing became harsh.

"Don't move. I will carry you, so stay put." He was fumbling with his pockets when Anya closed her eyes in an attempt to subdue the nausea that was threatening to overtake her.

"Everyone is hysterical and scared shitless, but nobody is hurt except for a few scratches and such." Anya heard Alicia say. She felt her friends hand as Alicia brushed her bangs out of her eyes. They were stuck to her forehead form sweat and blood.

"I'm going to take you both somewhere safe now." Alastor Moody said. That brought Anya out of the sleep she was about to fall into. Her eyes snapped open. She had to attempt twice before she was able to talk properly. The words kept jumbling up on the way out.

"You don't have… Hospital… you should take me…"

"I have orders kid, and the orders say that in case of emergency, you're to be taken to a safe location." Then his voice softened a little. "Listen, there is a healer where I'm taking you, so you'll be fine, I promise."

Anya tried to make him stop, to say something more, but breathing in and out, concentrating on not throwing up and keeping her eyes open – all those things were taking up too much of her energy.

She was _so_ tired…

Moody was holding out an old pen and Alicia instantly understood where this was going.

"Hold up a sec. I'm not taking a portkey with a stranger to God knows where." Alicia said at once. Anya couldn't agree more and all at once she was grateful that she had someone like Alicia there, who always said what Anya wished she could say…

Moody turned to glare at Alicia, who held her own admirably.

"If you'd ducked and stayed out of it like I told you to, you wouldn't be this shit right now." He grumbled.

Alicia had the audacity to glare back at him, but she didn't say anything. Moody muttered something that sounded a lot like 'bloody stubborn'. Alicia's outrage was so comical. Anya chuckled, and felt her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she did.

… _oh the relief that sleep would be…_

Alicia looked down, panicked. "She's laughing?"

Moody's frown deepened even more if that was possible. "She's under shock. We have got to go, _now_!"

The pen in his hand glowed blue – he snatched Anya's hand and put it on the portkey at the same time that Alicia reached for it.

The moment after, they had vanished.

oOoOo

Moody landed hard on his knees but the momentary shock of the hit didn't even register - he had been expecting it. Which was why he didn't move his hand from under the kid's head. The last thing she needed was another concussion. That godammed head-wound of hers wouldn't stop spurting out blood!

Everything had been such a bloody _disaster_! He couldn't believe he'd been so fucking stupid.

He'd been told to protect Anastasia Rain at all costs, but his priority number two was always to keep a low profile. Kate had been clear that she didn't want her daughter to find out that she was being watched. But he had been wrong to act in the last moment, he'd been so _wrong_! He should have disarmed Black and Lestrange the second they showed their face. God he _hated_ that psychotic bitch.

Moody felt an overwhelming need to rub his face raw...

Fuck him to bloody hell, Kate would skin him alive for letting this happen to her daughter!

"The Potter house? _This_ is your safe location?"

That irritating kid's voice – a McKenzie none the less, go figure - reminded him that she was tagging along. He'd had had to bring her, she was too involved now. That stubborn kid had even taken part in the duel! Whether she wanted to or not, she had chosen a side now...

Moody didn't dignify her with an answer, because in that precise moment Anya contorted in his arms, and as she shook all over, a weak whimper escaped her lips, right before she went completely limp. As he looked her over, he felt the grip of panic getting tighter around his neck.

God... she looked so much like Kate it was nerve-wracking.

And seeing her so hurt and drenched in blood was not doing him any good. For the first time in years, he was almost shaking. The sudden stillness and quiet of the kid scared him for a moment. She'd fainted…

His heart lurched in his chest.

He picked Anya up and practically ran towards the Potter's back door, Alicia hot on his heel. He kicked the back door open so hard that it almost flew off its hinges. Somewhere else inside the house he heard something smash and a second later, the sounds of multiple steps coming down stairs.

Moody did the first thing he could think of: yelled his head off.

"_Dorea_! It's me, I need your help!"

Dorea Potter wasn't too far away. As Moody entered the corridor that connected the kitchen with the rest of the house, she practically ran out of the living room, looking pale and alarmed – but she was quick into action when she saw him, instinctively going to check the girl in his arms.

This wasn't the first time Moody showed up on her doorstep with someone that needed medical attention, but he'd never broken in like a savage before. The rumble from the stairs that made Moody think of a crowd running down – even though he knew very well that it could only be two boys too surprised to think of apparition.

"What happened?" Dorea asked, her tone clipped as he put Anya on the bed. The guest room on the first floor had been turned into an improvised medical quarters.

"Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange. One of them tried to hit her with an '_Ubi immensa'_ . And she hit her head at least three times before that. The other one is fine – I took care of it."

Moody kept his distance as Dorea put salts under Anya's nose. The kid shook and moaned weakly, her eyes peeled open, her breathing picking up irregularly, moaning.

Moody clenched his fists so hard he felt his nails dig in his palm.

He shouldn't have let her faint. He should have kept her awake, by _all_ means necessary. He couldn't deny to himself that he had forgotten to tell the kid – to warn her – that she should stay awake. She undoubtedly had suffered a concussion and he'd been so _bloody stupid_… Moody stopped the mental tirade trying to take a deep breath and calm his thoughts. But the anger at himself remained. It had been a rookie mistake, one that he had never made - not even when he had been a rookie. If this girl came out of this in any way harmed, it would be _his_ fault, not Bellatrix's.

"What is wrong with her?"

Moody turned and looked down on the McKenzie girl. Since he had started keeping tabs on Anya, he'd had the chance to get to know her best friend as well. Alicia McKenzie… Moody still couldn't believe it, how she had jumped into that duel without the barest hesitation, gracelessly, but making up for her inexperience with amazing fierceness.

But now, looking at her friend bloodied and moaning, she looked frightened – a reaction that in his weeks of seeing her around, he had never witnessed before.

"The hex she was hit with is designed to break every bone in your body, and when it doesn't succeed in that, it can still make the main vessels in the human body explode." Moody explained in a steady tone.

McKenzie sucked in a harsh breath.

"Dorea is a good healer, I'm sure the kid will be fine." He said through gritted teeth. He wished he believed it…

"What the…" James's voice was too close and it made Alicia almost jump off her skin when she heard him. He was right by her side, at the doorframe of the room where Anya was being taken care of. Black was a second away, looking more tired and worn out than she'd ever seen him. He had a black eye, a busted lip and a cut on his nose, as well as minor bruises all over his face.

"What the hell _happened_ to you?" James asked, looking at Alicia with wide eyes that scanned her up and down with something akin to worry. Black leaned around her to look inside the room, and Alicia saw how his eyes widen at the sight, the shock of it making his breath hitch. James looked in too – in Alicia's opinion, the '_bloody hell'_ he murmured didn't quite cover it.

"Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange happened." Alicia murmured, still looking at Anya.

She missed the way Sirius and James's eyes snapped in her direction because right in that moment, Anya was take by a violent coughing fit – Alicia was horrified when she saw her friend cough up so much blood that she looked like she was going to drown in it.

Anya had been bleeding from both her ears, mouth and nose… and there were strange dark marks on her skin, like bruises but not quite. She'd spent enough time in St Mungos to know it for what it was.

_Internal bleeding_, a small voice inside her head whispered.

"What happened to her?" James's voice was now calmer. Before Alicia could begin to explain, she was pushed aside roughly by the same man who had just saved her neck.

"Hey!" Alicia protested, but the Auror didn't even bother to glance at her twice. He closed the door behind himself, so careful not to make any noise that the gesture looked improbable and distinctively in contrast with the aggressive expression painted on his face and his rough manners.

"Quiet." Moody said firmly. "Now… You two go back upstairs, and take _her_ with you. Keep her there until Dumbledore arrives."

"What?! I am not your prisoner!" Alicia hissed, barely containing her indignation. She was still clutching her wand and immediately stepped away from Potter and Black. Instead of ignoring her existence, this time the man limited himself to glaring at her, irritated.

"Relax, would ya? Dumbledore will talk to you, tell you what you got yourself mixed into and then send you home."

Alicia wanted to argue, but she had nothing smart to say. No matter what happened, she knew that nothing bad would take place as long as she was in Professor Dumbledore's hands… but she still wanted to make clear that she hadn't been subdued that easily.

"When will this goo come off my arm anyway?" She looked at the blue mousse-gel-thing that covered her entire left arm from shoulder to wrist.

"When your burns heal." The man said simply before starting to walk away. "Sorry about the door James. Say hello to your father for me." Moody was out of their sight before James could open his mouth.

For a few moments, an uncomfortable silence reigned between the three teenagers, who simply looked at each other without knowing what to do.

Then James decided to break the awkwardness.

"We just keep meeting in the strangest situations don't we?" He said, with a barely there smile. "You need anything? To eat or drink…"

"I'm alright thanks." Alicia said. She didn't want anything to do with food at the moment, and though she was tired she just couldn't stand still. The adrenaline was still flooding her veins, making her restless.

James nodded towards the staircase. "Come on up then."

The three of them went to the second floor and ushered Alicia into one of the guestrooms. He wondered briefly if they should leave her rest – she looked awful and was even bleeding… but the blazing need to know what happened was stronger.

"I could heal that for you I you want." Sirius offered, looking at the cut on her forehead. The reluctance in his voice was palpable. He'd never liked Alicia and she'd never liked him, but this was not one of those situations. This was real life – and looking at her bleed made holding on to superficial resentments felt childish.

"Yes please. It's starting to sting really bad." Alicia said and let Sirius point his wand at her forehead. Instantly, she felt the burning ache subdue almost entirely. Afterwards, James handed her a little vial of transparent potion.

"It's for your headache, and any other muscular pains. It'll make you feel better, but might also cause light-headedness."

Alicia took that also, unable to help a little smirk.

"Experienced huh? How many times have people showed up at your doorstep bleeding?"

James didn't react visibly. He was used to small lies to protect the Orders activity. Even though Dumbledore wouldn't let him or Sirius join yet, they couldn't keep them entirely in the dark – after all, some of the meetings took place in his own house and Sirius practically lived there.

James shrugged carelessly. "Not that many, but it has happened before. My mum is one of the best healers in England. People come here for help sometimes."

"What kinds of people?" Alicia's suspicion grew with every second that passed.

"People like yourself and your friend." James didn't allow that occasion to pass him by. "What happened to you two?" He asked, keeping his tone disinterested.

Alicia looked at him carefully, not without suspicion and he remembered how at school, she prided herself on being a living bullshit detector.

"I'll tell you, if you tell me why Anya and I were send here instead of at St Mungos."

"We'll tell you what we know, which isn't much." James said calmly. Alicia scrutinized him hard, trying to tell if he was playing her or not… only to realize that it was useless. She was aching to understand what had happened back in that pub, but really it wasn't that hard to guess.

Bellatrix had attacked Anya to intimidate her mother. She'd even said so: '_a message for your mother_…'

What Alicia wanted to know was something else: This house was a safe location, according to what that man had said. The question was _what_ was it that this house was safe _from_. Who had been that man protecting Anya? Why had he been there? It sure hadn't been dumb luck, he'd literally appeared out of nowhere!

Alicia took a deep breath. Anya's screams back at that pub, as if she was being ripped apart…it had been a sound that Alicia had never heard before – those screams still echoed in her ears. She took a deep breath and it came out as a long sigh.

"Ok then… here it goes."


	11. Act 9 - Implosion

**Act 9 – Implosion**

_**1. **__A violent collapse inward, as of a highly evacuated glass vessel._  
_**2. **__Violent compression._

_- I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am. ~ Sylvia Plath_

_- A person not only ticks, he also chimes and strikes the hour, falls and breaks and has to be put together again, and sometimes stops like an electric clock in a thunderstorm. ~ James Thurber_

Awareness came in slow, warm waves. Anya turned on her side, breathed in and out and stuffed her face in the warm soft pillow. Then a second later, she jumped awake, everything that had happened coming back in a wave that had her shivering. Anya stretched her muscles with controlled moves, as she did after a particularly strenuous workout, but felt no aching anywhere. She felt better than she had this morning actually. A hand went to her head. It was bandaged, but didn't hurt.

Anya looked down on herself: the white cotton nightgown she was wearing wasn't hers. It was a little big for her, but also warm and comfortable. She wasn't in her room, but she remembered that. Remembered waking up in a world of pain, being healed, washed and soothed, put back to sleep. A god-blessed dreamless sleep.

Anya carefully sat up, and put her feet on the ground. She tried getting up carefully. But she had nothing to worry about it seemed, she was fine, everything was in place and working properly.

Slowly, Anya let herself think… she was unafraid when she went through her memories of what had happened. She tried to remain cold, to think her way through this… but she couldn't. She felt lost, thrown in the midst of something she didn't belong into, in a world of forces he couldn't compete with and the panic of not knowing her way out was starting to bite at her.

But someone could answer. Someone _had to_. After all, hadn't her mother prided herself of always knowing the secret? There was cynicism in that thought, a surge of resentment that Anya didn't know was in her. But she welcomed it as an ally, as a reactions that should have come sooner.

The despair had passed now, Anya wasn't sorry for herself anymore.

She was _furious_!

Hatred came so easy when it was directed at the people you loved. It was all one emotions: love_hate_ with the darker side crushing the softer one and all directed at one clear target: the woman that had dragged Anya into a world of conflicts an values she didn't understand, ignoring everything Anya was, for the sake of her own pride.

Anya took her wand from the nightstand, and went for the door. She stepped out in the hall. It was lit by warmly glowing candles, painted in clean, warm tones, decorated to fit expensive and fine tastes.

Only when she was in the hall did Anya realize that she didn't know where to go.

Then voices came to her ears, hushed because they were coming through a closed door and a couple of walls. But Anya knew one of those voices. She followed it, almost hypnotized. Strange, Anya thought, that she'd wanted to go home when in fact her mother was right here, not a room away from her. As always, Katherine was ever too far and always carrying her destructive force with her.

Anya tightened her grip on her wand and stood right in front of that door.

Without caring at all about what she was being bad-mannered, Anya fisted her hand and knocked hard on the dark wood of that door. The sound of her fist banging against the wood was a staccato that was meant to sound rude and deliberately indiscreet. Purposely interrupting without giving a shit.

The door opened almost immediately, but only by a fraction, barely showing the face of a nervous, slightly angry looking woman with dark hair and wide dark eyes that made Anya think of a younger-looking McGonagall. The woman didn't bother to hide her irritation when she spoke.

"What do you want?"

"My mother…" Anya said faintly, her voice raw and completely devoid of life. She said it with the certainty that her mother was in that room, plotting as always her ridiculous schemes, getting involved in things that were none of her business. Shedding blood – _other people's_ blood – to justify that adrenaline fix that she needed, covering it all up with nice words and idealistic morals. All _bullshit_!

"The meeting isn't over kid." The irritated woman was about to close the door in Anya's face but Anya's anger got the better of her. She snapped her hand against the smooth wood, stopping the door from closing.

"I don't care." She hissed out. The woman hesitated, glared down at Anya and was sure about to say something, but Anya interrupted.

"_Don't you hide from me, Katerina_." Anya spoke in clear Russian, not bothering to hide her loathing. She chose those particular words deliberately. She chose them because she knew the effect they would have.

'_Don't hide from me'_

Those had been the exact same words her father used to say to her mother every time she didn't want to talk to him. Anya had never called her mother by her first name before either. But she had made a decision now, and everything had changed.

_Everything_.

There would be no more running after her mum, no more sharing lives that weren't made to fit together. It was just a disaster, it was a mistake to be in her mother's life when Anya clearly couldn't handle herself in it… She was so tired of feeling weak. A looser, a good-for-nothing. Why should she subject to that humiliation for someone who clearly didn't want her enough? Why should Anya be a nobody, a burden, in Katherine's world when she had her own? A world she shined in…

Anya should be where she belonged: away from all throwing something so destructive Anya's way, Katherine had nothing more to claim when it came her daughter, no more decisions she could make for her…

Everything was broken now.

The second that her mother's name came out of Anya's lips, a chair scrapped the floor sharply and Katherine Rain was in front of her daughter. Anya stared at her mother coldly. Katherine looked at her with an expression that Anya wasn't able to decipher. It was a mix of many emotions that made Anya's resentment rise up like a tidal wave.

"Now is not the time Anya. I'll talk to you in a moment…"

"I don't _care_." Anya hissed and pushed at the door more violently than Katherine expected. It slipped her mother's fingers and opened wide.

Katherine looked surprised beyond response, but Anya didn't have eyes for her mother at the moment. Disgust written all over her face, Anya saw all the people gathered there, around a table. It had to be at least 25 of them, huddled close together over papers and whatnot. And Professor Dumbledore seating at the head of the table.

Anya couldn't help the grimace. Of _course_, he was there… every time that something horrible was about to crash into her life, he'd been there. Like a prologue to disaster…

Anya turned her tear filled eyes to her mother, looked at her with open revulsion, without holding back one ounce of it.

"I'm leaving." Anya whispered as two fat tears fall down her cheeks, followed by a lot more. Her voice barely wavered – she was proud of that.

"I'm leaving your house and your life and I don't want you to ever try to contact me again, in any way. We're done. Goodbye mother." She was trembling as she turned away, but she felt strangely numb. Disengaged from herself, looking on the scene like a ghost.

Anya felt a sadistic pleasure at the shock on her mother's face. Let her suffer.

_I want you to hurt like you're in hell. I want your pain, your tears. I _need_ them!_

Let this be the punishment for what she'd made Anya suffer. For everything Anya had been denied, for the life she had missed, just so that Katherine Rain could do what she thought was right. Sacrificing everything for that abstraction.

Anya was caught by the arm and turned around.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry baby, but _please_…"

Anya wretched her arm away and stepped back. The pain in her mother eyes was a stab in her chest and it hurt with the same intensity that her anger burned.

_I hope it hurts, I really do. I hope it burns you up from the inside like hellfire._

"Don't touch me." Anya hissed, pushing Katherine away. Anya was just a few inches taller than her mother and in that moment, she felt stronger too. Anger gave her strength. Her pain gave her courage she didn't possess.

_I hope you know this pain is your fault and that you cry about it endlessly… like I did…_

"I didn't know they were going to come after you like that! I tried to protect you, I tried…"

That was all it took for Anya to snap. That almost frantic tone her mother spoke with, that tone that Anya had heard only once, in a situation not dissimilar from this one… It made Anya look at Katherine in contempt, a creature she despised. Her anger, the pain, the humiliation, all the repressed feelings Anya had carried around for so long exploded from her in a wave that filled the entire house.

The bitterness tinted Anya's every word, her every look.

"You didn't know? _Really_? What did you _think_ would happen mother?" Anya kept raising her voice with every word, but she didn't care who heard anymore.

"All those people, th-those _psychopaths_ that kill people for fun – something which you _know_ - and you still put their names on first page! You… you send Bellatrix Black after me! _Bellatrix Black_! How could you do that?"

The silence after Anya's words was piercing, so much that her ragged breaths were the loudest thing in that tastefully decorated corridor.

"What, you have nothing to say now?" Anya stared at her mother, so unbelievably disappointed that she could hardly believe what was happening. Even then, her mother said nothing to defend herself, to justify her actions. Even now Katherine Rain thought she had done nothing wrong…

Anya felt her heard break a little bit more.

"Anya…"

"_Don't_!" Anya hissed between tightly clenched teeth. "Don't you say my name like that, like you care. If you did, you would think of me first, before _all these people_!" Anya screamed, for the first time wanting to be heard, she wanted to scream the walls down. She wanted everyone in that room to know how much she hated them and everything they stood for.

"Even though you want me in your life, you make your decisions alone, you _always_ do… and I hate you for it. Do you hear me, I _hate_ you!"

_I hope you suffer endlessly, like I suffered. I hope you scream I pain like I did… for you - for nothing…_

"No! _No,_ you _don't_." Katherine said, more in despair than anger. For a second, panic had had full control of her senses.

"I'd take it all on my skin tenfold just so that you wouldn't have to suffer a second of it! It'll never happen again. I know you're afraid, but I'll protect you, I will, I swear…"

Anya ached to scream. One uninterrupted scream that would scrape away all her anger and leave her finally pure and in peace. The tears that blocked her vision were wiped away in an angry move.

"Afraid? Protect me? _Yes_, I am afraid. _No_, you can't protect me. I think you've proved one too many times that you have no idea what that word even means."

Katherine breathed in for a couple of times, probably trying to control herself, slow down her pulse. She had to think, _think_. She'd put her daughter's life in danger and Anya had the right to be angry, but she couldn't let her get carried away with it. She couldn't let her only child run away into the night in an act of rebellion. It would be better to keep Anya by her side by force than to know she was out there, running into certain danger, completely unprotected.

"There are so many things you don't know." Katherine said, finally starting to feel almost calm again. Her heart was still beating fast. "I am doing this for you, there is no one else but this Order that can protect us. Some really terrible things are about to happen Anya, and…"

"Oh, I know _all_ about that, I read your article. Let me guess: this Voldie guy is going to try and start a civil war and innocent people are going to die and you just _have_ to speak the truth for the greater good… Am I close?"

Her mother was silent and frozen like a stone and Anya rejoiced savagely in her small victory.

"Sound a little familiar, doesn't it, mother?" She said with a cruel smirk. "Well, I'm not going to stick around to see what happens this time…"

The pain in Katherine's face was plain. Oh, it felt so _good_ to know that Anya too possessed to power to hurt her. She didn't feel so defenceless anymore, so pathetic.

The words that came out of her mouth next were something that she had promised herself she would never say – something she would never even _think_.

And yet she said them because she wanted to be hurtful. She said them despite knowing they were a lie, because in that moment there was no pity in her, just the desire to hurt as much as she'd been hurt. Anya wanted to see her mother suffer, to know that she wasn't the only one that felt so forgotten, so abandoned.

"…Last time it was dad made that mistake. Remember how _that_ turned out for him?"

The dry sound of the slap echoed in the tomb-like silence that had fallen in the house. Anya felt the sting in all the left side of her face, but the only reaction that she could call out from herself was a choked breath, tears that rushed faster than ever. Anya chuckled without knowing why. This was the first time her mother had put a hand on her… but Anya was already too far lost into the moment, nothing would have surprised her now.

Katherine looked terrified of her own actions… and Anya took advantage of her shock. She turned to look at her mother with grimace on her lips that was trying hard to pass for a smile, but it was too cruel to wear that impersonation well.

"… my god! Oh _please_, hit me again! Every time you do is another time you admit I'm _right_. I'm right to want to stay away from you, mother. You are _death_ to everyone around you."

She watched her mother pale so much that she thought the woman would surely faint. And she _liked_ it, she _loved_ every second of it. Every moment that this incredible storm inside her raged higher was another scar on her soul, another laceration of her heart. And every word she spit at her mother was another chunk of that pain that Anya wanted to let out. She wanted to vomit it all out of her, all that revulsion, the loneliness and the hurt. She wanted to hurl it all at her mother and finally be free of it.

Free of _her_.

Anya brought up her wand and tried to disarm her mother. It was in vain, she knew… the spell was deflected without the smallest difficulty, reflexively. Anya had known it would be like that, but kept going, sending hex after careless hex in her mother's direction. All of them were easily avoided – Katherine even took the time to assure that the bouncing spells didn't harm any part of the house. But Anya had a point to make. She got aggressive… and the second that Katherine sensed that intent, she disarmed Anya fast.

"Stop! You can't fight me!" Katherine said pleadingly and Anya laughed, a laugh that was bitter on her lips, sounding every bit as hysterical as she felt.

"No, I can't. I can _not, _can I_?_ I'm doomed to lose, don't you see? In a fair fight, you'd disarm me with both your hands tied behind your back!"

The panic in her mother face was a joy to witness.

_I hate you I hate you I hate you…_

"I can't fight you. I can't fight, period. Bellatrix Black and her lot it not even going to enjoy killing me – it would be _that_ easy for them."

"I will not allow _anything_ to happen to you!" Katherine said resolutely.

"You already broke that promise once." Anya snapped back. "You promised him that nothing would happen and he _died_! Now you're going to promise me?" The silence was heavy, interrupted only by Anya's hard breathing.

"Don't you see mother? You're setting me up for a test I cannot pass. I can't! I won't play this game with you anymore. I'm leaving…"

"You have nowhere to go. I am all you have!"

So cruel of her to remind Anya of that… but it was not true…

"You're _wrong_, it's the other way around. I am all _you_ have. And I can go wherever I please: there isn't a single ballet school in the _world_ that doesn't want me. I get dozens of scholarships every year, offers from theatres everywhere!" And rubbing that in her face was the coldest revenge.

Anya watched her mother as she steeled herself, as she shook her head in denial. The look in Katherine's eyes burned, and for a moment it gleamed with a violence that Anya had never seen there before… she'd never seen her mother so desperate, and Anya mistook it for hostility.

Didn't recognize the true nature of the feelings and was frightened by it.

Katherine came close and grabbed Anya by the forearm, her face inches away from Anya's.

"No, you can't. You can't break free from me that easy. I live _in_ you, in your bones, in your soul. I _made_ you. Your blood whispers my name. Even in your rebellion, you are mine."

Anya felt her mother's shaking, even after she left go of Anya's arms. Heard the pain in her mother's voice and knew that she had misunderstood. That her mother was just as vulnerable and destructible as Anya was.

They both were bad for each other. They would both be better if they just kept each other at a distance. Her mother refused to see that. Katherine wanted it all, she didn't make compromises. Anya was a little more realistic than that…

And she felt so close to collapsing that the it seemed painful to go on… She just wanted this to be over. She wanted to go away, disappear. But when Anya tried to move, she felt her mother's arms come around her, hold her in a tight embrace that tasted of desperation and demanded everything.

"I love you Anya, you are my heart. I love you so much. I'm sorry."

Anya felt her soul pour out in a violent sob that shook her head to foot. She fought the embrace, trying to be free. Free of those arms and everything in between.

"No, you don't…" Anya said through tears of pure despair. She heard her mother sob and shake at the cruelty of those words.

"…you don't love me enough mother." Anya whispered and knew in her heart that it was true. Her mother's silence was even more devastating than anything she might have said. It was an admission. Silence is the universal yes, Katherine herself had said that.

With a violent contortion Anya managed to free herself from her mother's caging embrace. She couldn't help but look at the woman that had borne her and feel unwanted… and the deep rejection that followed, the feeling abandonment was… unspeakable.

… it took her breath away.

Anya looked straight in her mother's wide, shocked eyes… and didn't get that usual feeling of intimidation by all that her other was. Her mother's incapacitating selflessness, her courage and recklessness didn't frighten her anymore. Now Anya had nothing left to fear. The worse that could have happened had just happened.

And Anya was still standing. Even if barely.

All at once, Anya realized that she hated the whole world, most of all those people that her mother called innocents. Those people that Anya had always had to share her mother with, people with whom she had had to fight for her attention and love.

She _hated_ them all!

"Do they adore you? Do they think you're so brave, so selfless? Always sacrificing everything for justice and all that _bullshit_." Anya's voice lost all its strength, all the anger evaporated, leaving her alone with her pain and rejection. All alone, as she'd never felt before… She only had the strength to whisper.

She watched her mother shake her head in denial.

"No? Well, they should. You do sacrifice everything mother. Even me… without a second thought… and it hurts! Don't you get it? It _hurts_ and can't take it anymore, _I can't take it anymore_!"

She screamed those words out with the last energy she'd had left, and once dried up, once she was empty, something inside her broke. All the anger had been preserving her, protecting her from _this_. _This_ exactly was the truth Anya hadn't wanted to face: the clench in her heart, the unbelievable pain that found a hundred different ways to hurt, to break her apart and leave her bleeding for days…

She started crying. Not just tears flowing, like before, but passionately, bitterly sobbing, shaking and her voice breaking. Crying as if someone had died.

"I f-feel… like an… or-orphan…" Anya choke out in between sobs that didn't give her time to breathe.

She couldn't hold herself up anymore, felt her knees bend. She fell on the soft carpet and with her head hung low, she cried it all out… but there seemed to be no end to her pain. Anya knew the hand that landed on her shoulder, but she screamed as if it was made of fire and the hand retracted fast. She could hear her mother's soft crying even over her own louder sobs.

She didn't feel the spell that settled over her so gently. She felt as if she'd cried herself to sleep… and sleep did come, more welcome than any other time, peacefully dreamless and warm, wrapping her up in his arms carrying her into a serenity that she'd thought she'd forgotten.

And there was silence there.

Silence and no thoughts of anything. She was away from herself… And it was heaven.

oOoOo

Dumbledore put a hand on Katherine's shoulder. The slight tremble he felt was the only sign that she was crying. Anastasia was in the huddled in a corner, sleeping, her breathing not yet normal. Dumbledore hadn't had the heart to let this continue. They were both hurting each other and he could not see an end to it – even to his rational mind that discussion had been a vicious circle.

Anya couldn't understand, she didn't _want_ to understand any reason that might justify losing her mother to this fight… or herself. And of course, it was also not his problem to solve, but Dumbledore couldn't imagine mother and daughter solving it tonight.

As he passed near a mirror, he saw it had fractioned into a hundred pieces, not one of them falling off frame. Every mirror in this floor had broken, probably even in the upper floors as well. He fixed them easily. Unintentional magic was something not normal for a girl of Anya's age, but Dumbledore knew that Anya controlled only a small portion of what were her capabilities. It didn't surprise him that her distress had had such consequences.

Dumbledore neared Katherine, who was still kneeling on the floor.

"I have put her to sleep. She will be calmer in the morning." Dumbledore said softly.

"She will never forgive me." Katherine whispered as if she was talking to herself. Dumbledore knew what she was taking about but he also knew that arguing with Katherine at this moment would do more harm than good.

"She is too young to understand your reasons Katherine."

"Oh, but she is not. She has seen all this before Albus. She has seen this _all_ before." Katherine whispered as she stood up. The only sign that she'd been crying was the barely perceptible puffiness around her eyes. She was quick to put herself back together.

"She has seen me make mistakes and will never forgive me for them, or trust me not to make them again."

"Dimitri was not your mistake." She heard Alastor say sternly. Katherine startled to find him at her side, she hadn't even heard him… but his voice carried the conviction of someone who knows fact beyond any doubt. He'd always been so sure of himself.

"He had a choice to make and he chose to fight. His death is not on your hands." Alastor continued. Katherine flinched at hearing it spelled out like that, but she needed it. She'd needed to hear it put that way, to convince herself to believe it again.

"The meeting is over, by the way. They all left when voices started to get loud enough for us to hear them… they didn't want to intrude." Moody added and Dumbledore nodded.

"I'm sorry…"

But Dumbledore raised a hand to stop her apology before she even started it. "No, I am. I ask too much of all of you… but I shall make amends. Whatever you and Anastasia decide, she will have the protections she was promised."

"And I'll do better, I swear. This was all my fault." Alastor was fast to add, but Katherine shushed him with a look. He'd been apologizing all day when Katherine should be _thanking_ him for saving her daughter's life. This screaming match that she and Anya had had was nobody's responsibility but hers. Katherine neared Anya and with a spell she lightened her weight so that she could carry her daughter home, but before she could lift her up in her arms, Dorea Potter was by her side.

"Katherine… you are welcome to stay here. Until we are sure that the spells over your house haven't been breached and we put up some extra protection. Please, I insist. There is no need for any of us to take unnecessary risks."

Katherine looked in the warm hazel eyes of that woman and didn't have the strength to say no. For Anya's sake she had to stay at the safest place possible these days.

"Thank you Dorea." Katherine said and was surprised to see the other woman's eyes practically fill up in a moment.

"Oh my dear… we all own you so much after what you did. You're welcome to stay as long as you need."

Katherine had never had an older sister, but sometimes two kindred spirits know each other. Dorea was almost 15 years older than Katherine but ever since they had met almost a year and a half ago, they had had a connection, which was kept alive by the sincere respect that each of them had for the other.

If Katherine did not already admire Dorea for her incredible intelligence and practical soul, the older woman would have earned her undying gratitude all over again for healing Anya today after the run in with Bellatrix. And now she was offering Katherine and her daughter a place to stay and she was doing so in such an open way that Katherine couldn't help but be touched by her generosity.

"Is she ok?" Katherine asked, and Dorea knew what she wanted to know.

"Oh, yes. The internal bleeding was the most worrisome, but it was minimal thanks to Alastor's protective spells. I have fully healed her. All she needs to do now is sleep it off and take it easy for a few days."

Katherine nodded and made her way into the Potter's guest rooms with her daughter in her arms.

Once Anya was safely tucked in her bed, Katherine found Alastor waiting for outside the Potter's guest room. He was leaning against the wall and when she saw him, Katherine was stricken yet again by how very changed he was from Hogwarts. A lifetime of fighting had roughened him up. From a mischievous boy that never stood in place and always attracted the worst trouble on himself, he had turned into a warrior.

There was something intrinsically sad about that.

"She said it just to hurt you, you know. That part about Dimitri…" Alastor let the meaning of those words float in the air. Katherine was good at understanding even the most cryptic phrases. She understood this time too and Alastor felt her eyes on himself as her attention sharpened.

"How do you…"

"She was fully conscious that she was lying, and she said it because she knew it would cause you pain. To prove to herself that she could… I heard it in her head." Alastor had a queer look in his eyes when he said that, but Katherine was more captured by _what_ he'd said than the look on his face when he said it.

"You did _what_?!"

But before her temper could flare and he could be the victim of it, Alastor explained himself in a rush. "I was just trying to understand her… I…" Alastor lowered his head and his voice, and Katherine recognized the body-language of shame. "…I wanted to know if she thought what happened to her was my fault." He murmured.

Katherine rolled her eyes. He'd never change, no matter how many years passed…

"Kate, I'm…"

"If you apologize one more time, I'm going to personally hex your bones inside a matchbox!" Katherine warned, and Alastor knew when she was joking and when she was threatening for real.

"Actually, I was about to say dinner was ready, but it's the same."

Katherine managed an eyeroll and a small smile. She would politely excuse herself from dinner. Food was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She could only hope that she would not be paying any offense.

"Dorea also said that if you wanted to be excused than you were welcome to simply go upstairs to you room and rest. No need to be formal."

Katherine nodded absentmindedly.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight Alastor." She said back to her old friend, but she doubted that there would be anything good coming for her after this night…

oOoOo

Sirius had camped himself outside, right by a very specific window. He didn't know what he was waiting for exactly but he knew that something would happen. The clock sounded midnight. The silence of the night was a symphony he liked, especially this close to the park. He could practically hear the city breathe. He liked doing this - staying up and just listening to the silence. But that was not why he was fighting sleep tonight.

He, James and Alicia had heard that nice screaming match that Anya had had with her mother. Hell, there was maybe someone up in Scotland who hadn't heard, but London and surroundings were all updated to the news…

After what he'd heard, Sirius had been stunned. He hadn't realized that there were other people in the world who felt that having no family at all was better than having one like theirs… At first he'd though Anya a coward for wanting to run away, scorned her for it. But the more he heard the more he realized that it wasn't about fear. She wasn't running away just because she was afraid. She was mostly angry. And she seemed certain that she would die. After what he had seen, Sirius was inclined to think she was right.

One thing was clear though: She _was_ going to run away. Sirius knew she hadn't been bluffing, had recognized the truth in the voice - it had been like looking at himself in a bloody mirror. And the other thing that was certain was that she would be in big trouble if she got out of the Order's range.

What that girl didn't seem to understand was that it didn't matter how far she ran or how much she distanced herself from her mother. Even though through no fault of her own, she had ended up on Bellatrix's '_things to do'_ list, and if there was one thing Sirius knew was that dearest Bella never gave up on her hunt. She was obsessed by it. The more challenging the game was, the more fun she had. She'd keep going after Anya until she got what she wanted, and with Bella that usually involved a lot of pain.

The whole situation was a mess really… or an opportunity, depending on the way one chose to look at it. He had been _dying_ for dear Bella to give him a reason to hurt her like she deserved and now… he had bait. He didn't even need to go looking for Bellatrix because the way this was going, she would be the one to come to him.

Well, technically, she would come for Anya, so all Sirius needed to do was stick around for when Bella showed up.

Besides, Sirius owed Anastasia Rain a helping hand, and right now she needed one.

A soft noise from inside her room made him snap to attention. It was the faintest sound, repeated: careful steps that made great effort not to be heard. Sirius smirked. He had to give it to this girl: she was good. Even with the sound-amplifying charm, he'd almost missed it. But then again, she was some sort of prodigal ballerina right? It stood to reason that she would know where to put her feet.

Sirius' smirk almost turned into a smile. It was so strange how the most casual people that you think you will never see again stroll back in your life like that.

He checked to see if the Disillusion spell was still on him as it should.

A second later the window opened with such stealth that it barely mage the faintest sound. Sirius saw a long white leg cross over, followed closely by another. Ok, maybe this girl wasn't so smart after all – where the hell did she think she was going to go _barefoot_?! Sirius watched as she made her way to the ground carefully, her wand between her teeth. She even bothered to close the window…

And then she was running soundlessly towards the gate of the Potters back yard which would get her in the street.

Sirius waited for her to be out where the street was lightened by the many poles before he took off the charm that made him invisible. Once out of the Potter estate, she started running like the devil was on her heel. Sirius turned on the spot, disappearing into thin air and almost soundlessly appearing right in front of her.

She was running – he'd calculated that, counting on it in fact – so she ran right into his arms, bringing a wave of heat with her. The impact against him knocked her breath out of her with a sharp hiss, just as one of his arms went around her back to keep her from falling to the ground and the other hand clasped over her mouth to stop a scream that might come. But she hadn't had the time to get to that.

"Shshsh… Don't scream, _please_."

Her pulse was going so fast he almost felt her heartbeats against his own chest. He was sure it wasn't his heart, because he felt quite calm. He looked at her pleadingly as he eased his hold on her middle, letting her feet touch the ground again but not entirely letting her go. And just to show some faith, he took his hand away from her mouth also. She pushed away and he let her, but she didn't run away - even though she still looked at him like he was the Big Bad Wolf.

"What… what do _you_ want." She asked, breathy voice hardly louder than a whisper and still managing to sound demanding.

He looked at her up and down and smiled teasingly, tried to make his tone as light as he could.

"Where exactly did you think you were going to go barefoot?"


	12. Act 10 - Would you tell me, please

**Act 10 – Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?**

"_**Alice:**__ Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?  
__**The Cat:**__ That depends a good deal on where you want to get to  
__**Alice:**__ I don't much care where.  
__**The Cat:**__ Then it doesn't much matter which way you go  
__**Alice:**__ …so long as I get somewhere.  
__**The Cat:**__ Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough."  
_- 'Alice in wonderland'

"_Where exactly did you think you were going to go barefoot?"_

Anya kept trying to stabilize her breathing. She could not even formulate a coherent sentence in her brain. She was barren of means of expression as if he had stunned them out of her.

"What?" she couldn't help but ask and saw him roll his eyes.

This was not right. He was… This was…

What the hell was this?

Anya was sure she had no idea, except for maybe the fact that having him there, real, in front of her was… surreal. Seeing him was like falling from a nightmare into a hallucination. It was so startling that the surprise loosened the death-grip Anya had on her sorrow and for only one moment, she surfaced from the bottomless pit she was downing in, and took one single deep breath of fresh air.

To her genuine surprise, Anya was unable to feel anything about being there with him in the middle of the night. She was not curious she was not nervous, intimidated, anxious. She was an empty glass, too exhausted to make herself feel anything. And he was just there, existing and even though they were mere feet apart, Anya might as well have been in a different planet.

He might as well have been any other stranger for all she cared.

But Anya did react when she saw him take out his wand. Panic stuck immediately and she took a step back, tightening her hold on hers.

"Hey, hey, relax! I'm just going to conjure a pair of shoes." He said, trying to placate her. Before he even finished saying that he had a pair of black boots in his hand and… were those socks?

"Here… They used to be mineonce, they don't fit anymore. Maybe they'll fit you…" He extended his arm and Anya understood that he wanted her to take them.

She didn't.

She just kept watching him suspiciously.

Why was she still standing there? Anya asked herself that, but she had no idea how she was supposed to come up with an answer. Everything inside her was so painfully quiet, as if even her heart was whispering, afraid to be too loud. She had no interest whatsoever in anything…

But she still felt her lips move, mechanically, as if she was only hearing herself speak.

"What are you doing?"

Why did she even ask that, she didn't care at all. She just wanted to move. Go, anywhere. Faint somewhere, just so that she didn't have to feel so… so…

There was no name for what she was feeling. She needed hybrid words for complicated emotions, to express '_the emptiness that attends abandonment'_ or '_the blood-freezing fear after living your worst nightmare'_. She needed a word to describe how '_the sadness inspired by the loss of family_' connected to '_the bone-gnawing self-loathing that follows deep rejection'_, because when you fail at family, when even the closest to you, leave you, scorn you… then what could you possibly be good at? If you manage to ruin the most basic relationships in creation, how can you ever tell yourself you're worthy of any otehr love? Or capable of loving anyone else, if you can't hold on to the love for your own mother? Who else in the face of the earth would be able to love you enough, if she - a mother - could not?

When '_the loneliness so acute that the world seems desertred' _is born from a this kind of abandonments, then it becomes inconsolable.

Anya didn't need words. She was already unreachable.

"Why don't you tell me what _you_'re doing? It looks a lot more interesting." He was trying to keep his tone light, even though his eyes were sharply taking her in from head to foot. Dispassionately Anya noticed his scrutiny, but nothing in her shifted. She felt dead on the inside. The guilt, the anger, the shame, they weighted her down and at the face of his carefree attitude, she felt a sudden wave of revulsion for him, a reaction she didn't understand, but didn't fight either.

So she made to walk away, side step him as if he were nothing more than a character in one of her fantasies.

Which, in a way, he was… so it was easy to ignore him like one.

"Hey! Hey, wait. I was waiting for you, alright!" Sirius explained hastily, starting to walk beside her and trying to keep his tone as sure and steady as possible. "I knew you were going to run away tonight…"

Anya stopped, and a measure of surprise and cold dread slithered into her spine. She wanted to ask him how the hell could he know that… but then she realized that she knew the neighbourhood and, looking back, the building she'd just sneaked out of was more than just familiar. Everything about this place was familiar and it took Anya just a moment to realize why:

She _knew_ this block! Her own house was just on the other side of the park! Anya knew the house she'd just sneaked out of too: it was the Potter residence. She ran by it almost twice a week every time she went jogging in the morning.

Anya felt torn between two reactions: paling and blushing. Apparently her body chose the first one.

"…and to tell you the truth, it doesn't strike me as the smartest move when you have a sadistic bitch on your heel."

Anya's breathing picked up. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience or something: she felt lightheaded and her heart was beating fast. It was like trying to see clearly after you've turned on the spot for 5 minutes. Her brain was spinning around and she kept looking her balance, even though the world was perfectly still.

"How do you know…?" she whispered, the very effort of talking seeming too much for her at this moment, as if she had no energy to spare for anything but breathing.

She didn't finish the question but Sirius understood what she wanted to know: how did he know about Bellatrix? How could he explain that? '_Yeah, I heard the whole thing. Sorry about that, but you were yelling a lot, it kinda carried…all the way to Brazil_.' Right, he doubted she'd take that too well. Sirius opted for a soft approach – an explanation that provided minimum information.

"Mrs. Potter is a great Healer and you needed one, after… so that's why you were taken to her house and well, I kinda live there."

But then again, judging from horrified look on her face the next second, that wasn't a good choice either. Her eyes looked like they were going to pop off their sockets.

"How much do you… Did you…?"

_Why_ was the ability for speaking in full sentences eluding her right now? Her heart was hammering against her breastbone like crazy. Another high like this and she'd have a heart attack, but Anya found it impossible to control herself anymore. It was as if the dam had broken and there was no stopping the flood once it started.

"Not on purpose, but we kinda heard the whole thing…" he admitted, a little uncomfortably.

_Wait_… had he just said '_we'_?

Full of trepidation, Anya voiced her doubt.

"Who's '_we'_?"

Black hesitated a little before answering. "Me, James Potter and your friend Alicia. She was staying with us, waiting for Dumbledore."

Anya closed her eyes and the inside of her lids burned. The throb of her broken soul was overpowered by the embarrassment, by the indecency of her exposure. She was stripped of everything she had loved, of every hope that had proved a vain dream. She was falling, falling and she could not change direction - And though all this, she had not even been granted the decency to fall apart in private, out of the prying eyes of strangers.

Even in her self-destruction, she was found wanting…

How pathetic.

An unreasonable chuckle escaped her and maybe she was alarming Black with her unsteadiness, but she did not care. She didn't care about anything or anyone.

But he was still _there_. Right in front of her.

_So odd…_

"What are you doing here Black?" she whispered quietly, but strangely, the breathiness of her voice put Sirius more on egde then her shouting might have. He was caught off guard by the lifeless look she was giving him, as if even though she was looking right at him, she wasn't seeing him at all. The flatness of ehr tone, of her looks, inspired nothing good, as if she was above and beyond not caring, the lack of expression in her eyes adding something ominous to her apathy.

"I told you, I was waiting for you." He answered cautiously. Her eyes sharpened.

"Why?" she asked, her voice stronger this time.

"Because you really shouldn't be out on your own." He said slowly.

Something sparked in her glazed-over eyes, something that was very much like anger. It gave her a more purposeful look, it ebbed the emptiness that made her eyes seem hazy and made her look a crack away from shattering.

"It's no business of yours – nor anyone's - whether I'm alone or not. Goodnight Black, let's _not_ meet again. In fact, I think we better be strangers." She deadpanned snidely.

Too bad that Sirius was not about to agree on that whole '_let's be strangers_' part.

"Trying to forget anything this interesting would be an exercise of futility." He said calmly as he fell into step at her side. She did not answer. She did not even seem to have heard him at all. Her mind seemed so very far _far_ away and for some reason Sirius felt it necessary to keep talking.

"In fact, seeing that we met in very interesting circumstances, and kept meeting in bloodier circumstances, I think I'm never going to forget you." He couldn't help a lopsided half-grin when he remembered their meeting at the Academy and tried to push back the chill he'd felt when he'd seen in her Moody's arms looking two inches away from her death. Still, the only response his words got from her was a scoff. She did not say anything for at least a hundred feet, but there was a different manner in the way she held herself, an irritation that radiated off her rigid pose.

"So what year are you in? I know we don't share any classes together because I would have known you if we did."

"Actually we do share classes… well, we did." she said calmly.

Anya didn't know why she opened her mouth and started that conversation. But he was there and kept blabbing on and it was so impossible not to be distracted by him, by the incessant noise he was making. He was like a bee stuck in her brain.

"Yeah? When? I bet it was before third year, right?" his voice was so conversational, so normal. She hadn't had normal in a while. It was making everything seem even more surreal.

"Yeah."

"Funny that I don't remember you at all. I usually have very good memory." He said pensively.

Him not knowing her was not unexpected. She was very good at blending in and she took great care to stay out of his way, but there was another reason for his ignorance. Probably if Anya told him a few of the names she was called by the other girls - and boys - in her year, they would sound familiar to him. Maybe then he would say _'Ooh right, you're _that_ girl'_. But she wasn't going to do that.

"Its not really that strange. There are hordes of students at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, you're right about that."

And the idle chatter went on, sounding more and more disturbing in Anya's ears because it was so pointless. It was small talk, so out of range with the rest of her night, with her walking in a nightgown in the middle of the street, Sirius Black by her side… making small talk.

Too strange…

But anything was better than letting herself be sucked into that black hole she had just resurfaced from. By teasing and bothering, he had managed to pry her away from that darkness she had been clinging onto. Anya wondered for a moment if she would have been this prone to talk back, had it not been Sirius Black harassing her… but she did not have an answer for every question that popped in her mind.

It was strange though, how quickly he had brought her back to the street in the middle of the night… Strange how she could walk and talk with of _him_ of all people, because _he_, of all people, was there with her.

He kept babbling on – Sirius Black, a babbler, who would have thought – asking question after question and her not answering, or keeping with three word sentences. At one point she was trying to think of a way to get right of him when an unexpected pain made her stumble and loose her footing.

"_Ow _ow ow_ow_… Oh, just give me a _break_ already!" She hissed to nobody in particular. The sharp stab under her heel was so painfully unexpected that she had to grab his forearm not to fall and felt his hand instantly grab hers and pull her upright.

For a second the anger at her rotten luck was stronger than the pain.

"What is it?" Black asked sombrely as he got a better hold of her. His hand spun his entire forearm with room to spare.

Anya was unsteady on her feet. She bit her lip to hold back other whimpers, but she just couldn't help that little burst of irritation. She really couldn't get a moment of peace. A sore heel was _exactly_ what she was missing!

_'Thank you God. Really. Thank-You!' _Anya hissed in her head, every thought dripping with resentment without direction.

She bit back the tears. "I stepped on something sharp…"

"Sit down, let me have a look."

Her eyes snapped to his face, alarmed. She started shaking her head in denial before she could even fully process what he'd been saying, but Black would have none of it and he was pushing her down on the nearest bench. With only one foot to hold herself up and his hand like a vice on her forearm, it was hard not to go into the direction he wanted. Either that, or resist and end up with her face painted on the sidewalk.

Anya chose the lesser of two evils: she resisted.

"Nonono wait, I don't… _Aghh_!"

As if in slow-motion Anya felt herself losing her balance. Instinctively she closed her eyes, all tense for the fall – but before she could kiss the pavement hello, her fall changed direction and her face ended up pushed against something… a lot softer than expected, and warmer and that smelled so very…

_Oh_…

"…stubborn like a mule! Unbelievable." His voice was way too close for comfort. She felt the vibration right under her ear and the sensation of it went straight through in a shiver.

Anya pushed away from him, but didn't have the chance to go anywhere because he practically picked her up and manoeuvred her towards one of the benches at the side of the road and all the reaction she could manage was a small yelp. Anya watched Black kneel in front of her and suddenly she was incredibly aware of every single inch of skin she possessed and the way her heart was beating in her throat. Instinctively, she pushed the hem of the nightgown down, but it wouldn't go an inch past her knees. She was a breath away from hyperventilating.

_Someone up there must hate me too much to just _kill_ me. How can this night get any worse?_

Oh, but it could… The second Anya felt his hand on her ankle, the heat of him burned on her cool skin and she was so startled that she immediately drew her leg back, and in the process almost kicked him in the chin.

"Bloody hell!"

"I'm sorry!"

They both spoke at the same time. He was half glaring at her and she hoped that her eyes said 'sorry' as much as her mouth had. Anya didn't know why her hand had reached out to him and now that it was there in between them, she didn't know what to do with it! She drew it back fast.

"I'm sorry, really. You just… startled me." Anya closed her mouth fast before the next idiocy came out of it. She watched him roll her eyes and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment so strong that she looked down in her lap.

"Don't move." Black said firmly.

This time she had anticipated his touch, so she did her best to keep her flinch to herself. Her fingers tightened on the wood of the bench and wished that she could just have stayed in that bed tonight. Where he was touching her it felt like being prickled with little needles. Like warming by the fire after having held snow in your hands until the skin numbed.

Anya closed her eyes and wished really hard for this to be over as fast as possible…

"Would you _relax_! It's not like I'm going to bite your foot off… You're bleeding a little." He commented and a smirk made its way on her face, making Anya wish for nothign better than to slap it off.

"Waiting for me to ask what's so interesing Black?"

He looked up in her eyes, found them glaring at him and smirked even wider. "This is the second time you end up bleeding in my arms."

Anya narrowed her eyes down at him.

"I'm not in your arms and this tiny prickle doesn't count."

"Hmm if you say so." He responded vaguely.

Sirius didn't mention that he had seen what seh looked like torn up and covered in her own blood, beaten so badly she coudl not even breathe on her own. He did not tell her that, because even though it was _her_ he had seen, he considered that memory too personal: it was one of those sights that chilled the blood in his veins, so he had stored it away in a dark corner of his brain where he kept his other fears, and would never speak of it, ever. Least of all to her.

"I think it's just a piece of sharp wood, a chip or something." He said finally. Her only sign that she heard him was an unspecific 'hmm'.

He had such a concentrated look on his face it was as if he was studying some intense book and not an ugly foot. Was it possible that every ounce of luck she ever had had suddenly dried up! He was looking at her _feet_, the ugliest part of her: full of blisters and hard skin and contorted finger and weird looking toenails…

"Oww!" Anya flinched and instinctively she tried to pull back her foot, but this time he was prepared. His hold on her ankle was unmovable.

"Don't move."

"You're hurting me! _Ow_!"

"Well if you stopped squirming maybe it wouldn't hurt this much!" Black snapped, glaring up at her from over her foot.

"If you stopped poking me like that, maybe I wouldn't have to squirm!" Anya snapped back. He looked at her intensely for a second then rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. Bastard.

Sirius concentrated. He'd pulled countless of pieces of wooden debris from his flesh on so many ridiculous occasions that he didn't even feel like counting them. If she just stopped _squirming_, he thought irritatingly, this would be way easier.

Still, there was a silver lining in every situation: now for instance, he just learned the _actual_ meaning of the expression 'legs for days'. And not just _any_ legs. He'd thought her too skinny before, but her legs were not the twigs he'd expected. She was all lean sinewy muscle wrapped in soft skin… and had the most battered feet he had ever seen!

Ballerinas, the told himself. Apparently they had the ugliest feet imaginable. But for those legs, the trade was well worth it. Sirius circled her ankle with one hand, keeping her from moving and his thumb moved a little, just one tiny little bit, because he was too curious not to, over her skin there and he learned he was right… that tiny inch of skin he had touched was just as soft as he'd thought it was, like velvet.

He dared a quick glance at her and couldn't help a smirk. She was sitting there stiff as a board, her hands fisted tightly at her sides, barely breathing even though her lips her a little parted. Her eyes were huge and her cheeks burned pink and there was something in the way she looked at him. Sirius didn't know if he was imagining things, but it almost felt like… as if she…

He spared an inner derisive snort for himself.

_There you go again, flattering yourself! Leave the girl alone, she looks as frightened as a bunny faced with a wolf._

"_OW_! _What_ are you doing?" This time when she pulled her foot back, Sirius let her, but he couldn't help the chuckle as he looked at her amused with her reaction.

"Such a tough cookie, aren't ya?" He teased, looking up at her with a smirk on his lips.

Anya limited herself to glaring at him with the power of a thousand suns.

"Trying to make my head explode with your brainwaves?" he asked, giving her a lopsided smirk as he sat next to her on the bench, purposefully a little closer than he should have. Anya rolled her eyes and got back to massaging her foot.

"A girl can dream." She murmured and he chuckled. For a fleeting second he thought he saw her smile as well.

"Are you smiling? I was starting to think that was impossible." Sirius said, full of theatrical surprise.

Anya looked back at him with a dead-serious expression on her face. "A trick of the light, I assure you."

"Yeah, thought so. I mean, for all I know you could be grimacing from the excruciating pain of that horrible gash you got there…"

Anya pinned him with narrowed eyes.

"Hilarious Black, really. You're a regular riot." She deadpanned making him smile; that expression happened so easily on his face, as if it had been right around the corner. It changed his face, softened the angles of his features into a shockingly softer expression, almost sweet, one that Anya had not ever seen quite so close and privately until now…

He reached out and handed her the shoes as his smile turned into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Hate to say I told you so…" He started.

"Then don't." Anya snapped irritably as she took the boots from his hand gracelessly. In truth though, if she hadn't been the directly involved, she would have had to admit that a sound '_I told you so'_ was in fact very much in order…

"… but I _did_ tell you so." Sirius finished his eyes sparkling with amusement. Anya rolled her eyes at him and sneered, mocking his smile.

She practically felt his chuckle sliding against her skin. It was a disconcerting feeling. The fact that she'd made him laugh made her feel all weird for a moment – something happened inside her stomach that she couldn't control, like someone was tinkling her from the inside.

"Yellow socks… fashionable aren't we?" She teased.

"Just wear them." He said with a hint of annoyance.

Small victories are worth it, Anya thought triumphantly. She was almost… comfortable? The heavy weight that had been messing with her insides seemed to lift a little and transform into something else that started fluttering its wings inside Anya's chest and made her insides tinkle.

Anya frowned at her momentary reaction, metaphorically stumbling on her feet as she realized what she was feeling. How infuriating confusing! Why was she so… so _not_ unhappy? How was it possible that he had managed to distract her from the past 48 hours of her life? But even thought she loathed herself for being so fickle, so easily manipulated… she was grateful. It was easier to avoid herself by occupying her mind with something else. She was too afraid to face whatever it was that was chasing her. She'd rather just avoid it.

And what better way to do so than with someone as distracting as Black!

There was a little problem there though: even though she was glad she was not alone, having Black keep her company had significant drawbacks. Sirius Black was not just _anyone_. Whatever reason he had for following her tonight, it was bound to be trouble. He always was. Anya knew exactly the kind of situations that got his interest and she wanted nothing to do with that.

Again, trying not to show it, she looked over at him from the corner of her eye. He was staring off somewhere, his eyes the shade of grey that copied the colour of clouds before a violent storm. His stare was so intense that Anya was reminded why she always avoided his eyes.

She looked away and got busy with the shoes again.

She didn't smell in any particular way, Sirius decided. She smelled clean, of Mrs. Potter's soap and flowery shampoo. And there was a lingering whiff of the unmistakable scent of antiseptic on her, reminding him of how exactly they'd come to meet again this time. Reminding him what he was doing here in the first place.

Reminding him of Bellatrix…

"Have you thought about where you're going?" he asked, with a seriousness that startled her.

Anya frowned. Yeah, there was only one place she could go to before she was assigned a dormitory room in the academy. Sasha would be worried about her showing up so late – and irritated so much that she would probably remind Anya about it for years - but this wasn't the first time Anya took solace in her teachers home.

"Because if this place you plan to go to involves other people, then you better think again." Black said just as sombrely. There was something in his eyes, something not entirely harmless, that made Anya's heart beat faster. She resisted the impulse to put some distance between them.

"Bellatrix won't stop hunting you down, you should know that before you make any decisions. Involving anybody else in your life wouldn't be wise right now."

Anya couldn't tear her eyes away from his. For the first time, she was not uncomfortable looking in his eyes: she was too stunned by what he had said. She cleared her throat, looked around for a lifeline, but there was none. There was only Black… and his frightening, cryptic messages.

"What does that mean? Why should I leave people out?" Anya asked, frowning deeply as she tried to understand.

She had a very bad feeling about this. A feeling that solitude was going to have to be the rule from now on and that was not the same as being on her own. Being alone was never the same as being lonely… Suddenly that feeling of comfort that she'd felt so surely a moment ago was gone, lost forever, as if it had never existed and the absence it left behind was mocking her for her foolishness.

The depth of her situation began pulling her down again, as once again she remembered with characteristic masochism that she had nobody anymore, that she was alone. That she was abandoned, left behind.

_Again…_

Black looked up at her, confused. "What is that you don't understand exactly?"

"What do you know that I don't?" Anya snapped back, suddenly too impatient to play cool. What wasn't he telling her?

"That sounds like something between me and my god." Black said with a little smirk and Anya took a deep breath and counted to ten before speaking.

"Do I look like I'm in a joking mood?" she managed to say between gritted teeth.

"No. Just trying to lighten the air."

"I don't think that can be done right now. What do you know that makes you say that?"

Sirius looked at her sternly for a moment. Strangely enough, there was something in the way she was looking at him with those toad-like eyes that made him think he wouldn't be able to lie his way through this, probably because he didn't really want to. He felt it would be unfair to lie to this girl at this point, after all she had been through. He didn't want to scare her, but if she was going to run away, then she should know all the consequences of her actions before she made that choice.

"You know that Bellatrix and I are cousins right?" She ought to know. Everyone at Hogwarts knew… Everyone in the magic world knew who you were if your surname was 'Black'.

Anya's frown deepened. "Yes." What did that have to do with anything?

Sirius tried to make his tone as neutral as he could. He didn't want his feelings to seep through.  
"I _know_ her, I know how she thinks." He really hoped that his voice didn't sound to her ears as severe as it sounded to his.

"She is going to hunt you down just for the fun of it. And she is going to hurt everyone within a ten feet radius from you just to see the look on our face… If you care at all about people close to you, then you should keep them at arm's length for a while."

Sirius watched as her eyes fixed on the ground and stayed there for long moments. He thought he saw a shimmer in her eyes and thought she was going to cry, but when she looked up her eyes were dry. And she was looking at him differently. Her eyes were hard and cold, her stare full of suspicion and open resentment that hadn't been there before.

"And you're here just to tell me that?"

To give her another perfectly good reason why she should give up her life? Why she should get sucked into a world she wanted no part of, but that kept catching up with her in the most macabre ways.

Her eyes narrowed at him and Sirius knew that she would never believe it for a second if he said yes to that. Not that he was planning to.

"No." he stated simply and saw something shift in her eyes, some kind of imperceptible emotion that changed her entire attitude. She became cold, dethatched.

"Care to elaborate?" she asked curtly.

"I know this made you angry before when I said it, but it's the truth and I'm not insinuating that you can't protect yourself but…"

"You're not?" She interrupted. Sirius understood that she had no intentions of making this easy.

"No." He said calmly. Poker faces was something he was always great at.

He saw a wry smirk appear on her thin lips.

"Liar." She whispered coldly, with derision for herself as much as for him. They both knew he was lying and the truth was plain the their locked gazes and he could tell she hated it, that helplessness that rendered you a burden.

He knew the feeling.

"… _but_, I still think that you – or anyone for that matter – should get out of the protection range of the Order for now." He continued as if she hadn't interrupted him at all.

"Oh, so nobody is following me around under an invisibility charm tonight?" She asked, the disbelief plain in her tone, as biting as her stare was. Sirius dint trust that look on her face, it was too calculating to suggest anything good, but he answered truthfully just to give a proof of good faith.

"Not that I know of. You were supposed to stay in the house. I guess they didn't expect you to run away."

The look on her face was so frozen that it made her look like she was carved out of stone. In the dimly lit night, her skin seemed like shiny porcelain and in that white nightgown, she almost looked like a ghost. The way she was staring at him didn't betray any emotion, she seemed almost… vacant.

And it was slightly disconcerting.

Sirius was about to declare himself worried when she surprised him by simply and very calmly turning around and walking away.

_What the f…_

This girl was starting to seriously damage his calm. Sirius curled his fingers into fists but he didn't waste any time thinking. He followed her.

_Walk away, walk away, walk away… _That was what Anya kept telling herself. She just had to do a simple turn, and take a step, and then another and another… and keep going. She was such a tight mix of emotions that her feelings had almost disconnected from her consciousness. They were boiling under this thin and very delicate barrier of numbness, like hellfire contained by a thin sheet of glass. Anya was _painfully_ close to erupting… and now the only thing that that was boiling in her now was pure rage.

She felt completely violated. From a completely normal, _boring_ human being, she had in one day turned into a detail that was to be dealt with. A footnote, a body to be watched, someone's burden - like a four year old child. And what was most hurtful was that she knew the truth was not far from that. She _was_ a burden. She had to have other people look after her because her mother's world was too much for her to handle, in every way. _That_ was what hurt most: The truth. Forced upon her, _not_ her choice. Unlike her mother, Anya had never had a choice.

And Black was supposed to be what in this picture? Some surrogate protector-figure? A bodyguard?

_To hell with him! And _you too_, mother!_

For a moment, the memory of her mother, of everything about her came back in a flash and the mixed feelings she had on the subject almost brought her to her knees. Oh, how it _hurt_ to be without her. Loose from her grasp, away from her incredible strength, from her love. But how it _enraged_ Anya to be anywhere near her, near even the mere _idea_ of her!

Exhausted, Anya admitted to herself that she was not very good at doing either for those things. Her mother was right: even in her hatred, even in her most blinding moment of rage and rebellion… the love lingered. It was there, it could not be erased and it made breaking away as painful as biting off her own flesh.

And _why_ wouldn't _he_ stop following her!

What the hell did he think he was doing, as if he had the right to be there, as if he had every right to shove himself in her existence the same way he had appeared in front of her tonight: out of thin air and straight into being.

How she _hated_ him too!

Anya turned to face him, a no-bullshit look on her face.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

He was characteristically shameless when he answered calmly. "Following you."

Anya could scream of frustration. "Stop it!"

"I don't like orders." He sounded austere but she really didn't care. She felt like pulling his hair out in chunks.

"Well I don't like Mondays, but they come around eventually." Anya snapped.

"I'm not leaving you alone when you need the help. I owe you one and if this is how I'm going to repay you then so be it." Anya listened to the seriousness with which he spoke and knew that he meant every word. Couldn't he just understand that she wanted him gone! Who were all these people that thought they had the right to attach themselves into her life?!

Anya turned and put up a finger in his direction as if it was the most dangerous weapon on earth

"If I'd known my actions would have come to bite me in the ass like this, I would have left you in that car. Now do yourself a favour: shut up and turn in the other direction right now." She said between gritted teeth.

"What if I don't wanna do that?"

Anya's fingers arched into claws at the sound of his laid back tone of voice. The fact that he seemed so completely unaffected angered her more than she thought she was capable.

"What… Just what do you _want_ from me?" Anya hissed, her cheeks flushed and her hands balled tightly into fists. She was at the limit of her patience and she didn't know what to do.

"Nothing. I don't want anything. Look, I'm just trying to help and I know you didn't ask for it, but I know a thing or two about the people that are after your scalp right now and I'm telling you that you need to take the whole thing a little more seriously."

She snorted. "Right. And I suppose you'll tell me that going back into Potter's house is the serious thing to do, right?"

His eyes went cold, his mouth tightened a little. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. But I am going to tell you what you need to know. You're in the middle of something dangerous here. Those people will stop at nothing to shut your mother up, even if it means killing you."

His words took her breath away. She was left there, speeches, breathless, staring at him in disbelief and fear, unable to believe what she had just heard and the harshness of his whole demeanour when he said that.

"Actually, I don't think they want you dead. You're the perfect kidnap target. You'd probably be taken and held somewhere until they could get to your mother. Then they'd probably kill you both."

There was an unflinching calm to his tone, a deliberate cruelty to his words. To him she was just another stranger, but how dared he speak like that to her face. That was her life he was stalking about, that was her mother…

Who did he think he was, throwing those words at her in that way? Was he really that cruel?

Her voice shook when she spoke. "How do you… Are you…"

"I'm assuming you're not idiotic enough to think I'd be a Death Eater, therefore there is only one other thing I could be. And the answer to that is no, I'm not in the Order either. Dumbledore doesn't want us in until we're out f Hogwarts."

Her stomach tightened and Anya was sure she felt a wave of nausea.

"But you… you _want_ to join?" She asked, her voice sounding so hollow, even as she spoke.

"Yeah. And I will."

She could hardly believe her ears.

"Why? Why would you ever choose to do that?"

There was such sincerity in her question, as if she truly couldn't understand why he would want something like that – which irritated Sirius to a very interesting degree. What was it that this girl didn't understand? Fine, fighting was something she wouldn't chose for herself, but why should she question it in other people?

"There seems to be a very important concept out of your grasp here princess: this is not a lifestyle choice! It's called 'doing what needs to be done'." Sirius said in the most scathing tone he could master.

"See, that's where you're wrong. By definition, this _is_ a lifestyle choice for you: It's _your_ choice and nobody is making it for you, or forcing you."

There was something in her countenance, in her anger that made the whole thing seem so much more personal for her, as if Sirius had taken something that belonged to her. Which was completely insane – he barely knew the girl. How could she feel so strongly for someone she'd only now properly met?!

"At least I've chosen a side." Sirius spat out, glaring at the girl in front of him. But it only made Anya scoff.

He was exactly like her mother: fighting for a cause. And because of that, no one would be able to truly have him. People of the likes of him, of her mother, were not meant to be had by anyone. They belonged only to themselves - holding on to them was like trying to hold on to the edge of a knife: It hurt and made you bleed.

People like those two always left the ones who were most counting on them alone.

"The fact that you think that matters is just further proof that you have no idea what you're doing. Do you really think that once a war starts, what side you're on will make a difference? You just can't wait to play hero, but you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"Really? What is it that you know and I don't?" he asked, his voice full of a calm that vibrated with a silent threat. _Stupid_ girl! Where did she think he grew up, in the land of sunshine and fucking fairies? He knew better than anyone who he was up against; _that_ was why he wanted to _do _something instead of sitting on his ass and complaining!

"I know what a war looks like, what it feels like… I know what it does to people." Anya breathed out.

Black blinked twice and fast, the anger in his eyes dulling for a moment and Anya read that as a sign of his surprise. He hadn't expected her to say anything like that. Maybe he hadn't expected her to say anything at all.

Sirius was calm when he spoke again.

"You know, it's strange to me that you were so ready to come and pull me out of that car the other night but you seem to be unable to understand that some things, _important_ things, come down to how much a person would do, how far they would go, to help another person who needs it. I mean… I thought you already knew that."

He watched her as she worked to steady her breathing and watch him with hurt in her eyes.

"It's what you mother is doing." He dared to add, knowing that he shouldn't have but wanting to make her see anyway, because there was something in him that wanted to make her see that. To make her see how lucky she was that she had a mother that loved her so much she was ready to fight against the whole world to make it safe for _her_.

But Anya did not see things that way. And at the mention of her mother, she went cold as stone.

"You know nothing about my mother, so you should say nothing." She bit out and this time her voice was steady, cold. "I'm not running away or abandoning anyone. No one has the right to decide how I live or I die. It is my choice and if that is not selfless enough for you, well, that's really not my problem is it?"

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but then he caught himself and closed it again. He didn't contradict her, because he couldn't. If he contradicted her on that, he would be contradicting himself. He didn't care to admit it, but knowing this girl – knowing _about_ her - had pulled strings that he hadn't even thought he had in him. He'd never expected to meet someone that reminded him so much about himself and that was making it hard to stay unaffected. It wasn't her choices that made up the congruence between them, it was the way she felt, the way she wanted to claw her way out of her life.

The same way he had.

It had made him feel as if he'd known this girl for forever, as if he knew exactly who she was even though he had no idea.

Besides, she had practically saved his life and that was something else he couldn't ignore.

He'd wanted to help - that was the real reason why he was here tonight. He'd tried, in his awkward way. And yet, here she was still, insisting on the decision she'd first made in a plain show of what Sirius was starting to understand was characteristic stubbornness.

It was weird, considering circumstances, and the fact that she was so fucking irritating, that he respected her for sticking with her own mind.

Anya watched as Black hesitated and then with the deep breath he took, he seemed to let all his previous anger go. The nonchalant shrug completely baffled her and she couldn't help but stare.

"Fine then, you can handle Bellatrix on your own. Maybe after she plays with you for a while, you'll feel differently. Revenge is always a good motivator."

"You should know." Anya snapped coldly before she started to leave, noticing the way his eyes narrowed at her words, but he held his tongue. She'd only put a few feet between them when he spoke again.

"Hey, I want my shoes back!" he yelled and she could practically _feel_ the smirk in his tone.

Anya's skin _itched_ with irritation. Her finger twitched into claws and she wished nothing more than being able to hex that expression off his face for good. She hastily took off the black boots, all the while glaring at him and his little self-satisfied smirk. She did the first thing she could think of:

Threw one boot at his head with all the strength she could manage.

But he saw it coming and was fast enough to dodge it… the second caught him in the shoulder. _HA_! Victory short lived though, because Anya started running away before he could hex her socks off too.

Sirius cursed when the heavy boot made contact way too close to his head for comfort. But it didn't hurt that much and the truth was that once the initial irritation of being hit by something passed, he was even a little amused by her reaction.

Sirius watched her run away and didn't follow. He just kept watching her and once he was invisible again, he followed her from the shadows, deep enough into the darkness for her not to see him. Even if tonight had been a good night to spill blood, that girl had already given her fair share. Besides, he was not even remotely sleepy anyway and he needed a distraction badly, or the destruction of his own existence would drag him under again…


End file.
